Gonna Write My Own Overly Specific And Seemingly Arbitrary Do Not Interact

gonna write my own overly specific and seemingly arbitrary do not interact

Ivar + hat

You know what? Im sick of this shit.

Tickling is NOT a kink/fetish for everyone. Stop saying it is.

Here, for everyone who really needs proof.

Reblog if tickling is NOT a kink for you.

Avatars 400*640 - Alex Høgh Andersen Ivar | Vikings

An Angel Waiting For Him (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1938 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

When you first learned about Homelander's weakness to head scratches.

Homelander's been inviting you up to his penthouse more often lately. He's never really had friends before, let alone someone he can trust like you, so you figure he appreciates the company. As Homelander prefers to keep a tight schedule, your near daily visits happen at a regular time. It's become an enjoyable ritual of sorts, getting to see him and talk about your days together.

Truth be told, Homelander isn't sure what to make of you. You are so nice to him, but he's skeptical if he should let you get this close. The only humans he's been attached to are horrible people that he can't bring himself to kill… outside of Madelyn. Even though he loved her like a mother, she not only lied to him but she had been afraid of him throughout their whole relationship. Their entire bond was built on fraud… but he can never remove her entirely from his thoughts. He misses the way she provided him comfort, the way she let him lay his head on her lap… even if it was all just a lie.

During your afternoon break, you decide to spend some quiet time away from your co-workers in Homelander's penthouse. Although he isn't inside, he has given you permission to go there whenever  you want. Walking into the tranquil silence of the penthouse, you make your way to the living room to lounge on his oversized couch. You tuck yourself into the corner of the couch, with your back on the armrest for the perfect view to watch the clouds pass by the window.

Just as you begin to feel at ease, you hear Homelander storming into the penthouse. His footsteps are louder than normal, a telltale sign that someone has pissed him off. He plunks himself on the couch next to you, with such a hefty thud that you are shocked his landing didn't catapult you across the room. Tilting his head back, he lets out an exasperated huff as he rubs his temples.

"Rough day?" you ask, sighing as you sit upright. Whatever uneventful break you intended to have is clearly not going to happen now.

"I can't believe I have to work with such idiots," Homelander grumbles, dropping his hand heavily into his lap. "These fuckers have no idea what I do for them, and yet they think they can treat me like I'm not the one in charge of my team".

"That must be difficult, feeling so used," you say, attempting to console him.

"Yes! Thank you!" he shouts as he raises his hands into the air, perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than he intended. "It's like nobody here understands how much I sacrifice for them. I'm just here to say my lines and make them money. I'm a real fucking person! I'm still the captain of The Seven, not them!".

After ending his rant, he looks down at you expectantly, like he is waiting for you to stroke his ego some more. It's what you've come to anticipate from Homelander, the one sure-fire way to bring him out of a sour mood. However, today you came up here for some peace and quiet. Possibly, you think a different tactic can help him unwind too.

"I'm sorry Homelander. I know how frustrating it can be to be treated like that," you say, looking up at him while you scoot a bit closer to place your hand on his thigh. "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know, alright?".

Homelander gawks at you, blindsided by your abrupt changing of the routine. You were supposed to tell him how great he is and how everyone else is wrong, so he could go about his merry way. Instead, your words are bringing up memories of Madelyn, and a thought pops into his head. One that he is uncertain that you would let him do with you.

With a wave of nervousness overcoming him, Homelander averts his eyes from you while clenching his fists and tensing the muscles in his jaw. He's terrible at hiding his feelings; you know there's something tumbling around that big head of his.

"You look like you want to say something else," you remark, giving his leg a gentle pat. "You know you can tell me anything, I won't judge".

"I, um…" he mutters, eye darting frantically before he closes them, trying to steady himself with a deep breath. "I… want to try something… if you, uh… if you'll let me".

"Sure, go ahead," you respond, nodding your head. You aren't quite sure what Homelander is asking for, but your curiosity is piqued.

"O-okay…" he stutters, keeping his eyes planted on the floor. "Just… please… please don't move".

Just as you wonder if you've made a mistake, you watch as Homelander shifts his body lengthwise across the couch to lie on his back. Slowly, he lowers his head into your lap. You're taken aback by the sheer size and weight of his head, which is so large it's practically overflowing on your thighs. It almost feels like you have a big fat cat lying on you, if not for the incredible anxiety you feel emanating from him. He looks like he's scared out of his mind, completely regretting this decision and just wanting to get up and leave. And yet, at the same time he is still like a statue, waiting for you to make the first move.

Trying to comprehend what he wants, you absent-mindedly start petting Homelander's hair, as if your brain is on auto-pilot and it believes the giant head in your lap really is just a fluffy cat. Lo and behold, you begin to understand what he was asking for as his stress evaporates from your delicate touches, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks further into your lap. He lets go of a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and further nuzzles himself into your hand.

From your first moment alone with him, you've learned how affected he is from simple touches. How he practically bulldozed you when he tried to lean his full body weight into your hands, like he was chasing after something he had missed his entire life. It was something that bewildered you; you've only ever heard Homelander speak of this perfect childhood and family he had, why would he crave affection so heavily?

When you start running your nails along his undercut, you are surprised to hear Homelander start keening, albeit very inaudibly. He's clearly enjoying your attention, but it's obvious to you he's fighting to stay quiet. Unexpectedly, one particular scratch along his scalp causes him to loudly whimper from the pleasure. He immediately freezes, and stares at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

"I-I'm sorry…" he stutters, tears forming as he attempts to hide his face in your chest. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm s-sorry," he continues to repeat, eyes squeezed shut like he is terrified that he will be punished. Madelyn forbade him to make such pathetic noises on her lap, and she would only allow these 'sessions' when he obeyed her every word. He expects you will be the same.

"Hey, it's okay Homelander," you reassure him, still petting his hair. You hate seeing him so upset, especially when he hasn't done anything wrong. "That just felt good, right?".

Sheepishly, he nods as he turns slightly to peak at you with one timid eye, as if his entire existence is hanging in the balance of your next words.

"You don't have to apologize for enjoying that," you soothe him, using your thumb to wipe away his tears. "I'm happy that you're happy".

Homelander can't believe what he is hearing. Nobody has ever truly cared about his welfare before, and wanted him to just be content. Even Madelyn was only playing with his emotions to use him for her own personal gain. She never really cared, she just wanted to control him. It almost makes him feel stupid, placing Madelyn on such a high pedestal when there was an angel waiting for him this entire time.

He practically purrs as you resume scratching his scalp as you were before, except without this cloud of dread that was hanging over him. The fear Madelyn instilled in him to hide his satisfaction has miraculously dissipated, purely because of you. You, and your enchanted fingers, somehow adept at locating all of the sweet spots that he can't help but mewl at. Homelander nearly becomes overwhelmed by you, gripping at the couch's wooden frame so strongly you swear you can hear it splintering. There is something amazing about having a godlike superhuman giant whimpering in your lap, exclusively from the affection you give him.

Eventually, your fingers start to tire from your forceful scratching time. As you go back to lightly petting his hair, Homelander opens his eyes to see you looking down at him with such care. The way you smile so sweetly at him is intoxicating, unlike how anyone has ever looked at him before. You are special. He wonders if you even realize that you are so far above the rest of the mudpeople.

Homelander rubs his head lightly into your chest, still keeping his vision focused on you. Compared to how frustrated he appeared when he first sat down, he now looks so serene, totally calmed by your tenderness. As you observe him, you begin to wonder something.

"Say, Homelander…" you start. He gives a light hum, noting that you have his attention. "How did you know I was up here by myself?".

"I could hear your heartbeat," he explains simply, nudging at your chest. "It's the only one I listen for… It's… it's nice".

You aren't sure how to take that. Nobody has ever complimented you on the sound of your heart before. In a weird way, you are grateful that at least someone at Vought is keeping an eye out for you.

"When you were mad earlier… did you come up here just to see me?" you question, hoping to break through his real intentions of meeting you alone outside of your regular ritual.

Even though Homelander doesn't answer you, the ashamed way he avoids your gaze is enough for you to figure out his response. Somehow, you've become more than a friend to him; you're someone he wants to help him feel better, someone he trusts to take his hurt away. It's so sweet you can't stop yourself from smiling.

"Thank you," you say, caressing his cheek. When Homelander shoots you a confused look, you gently laugh.

"For trusting me, you goof," you grin, leaning down a bit nearer to his speechless face. "I'm happy that you're comfortable with me to talk about stuff that bothers you. I know how hard it can be to feel so alone".

"And if you want me to help you relax like this again," you remark, as you boop his nose with your finger. "I don't mind. I'm just glad to help".

Confounded by your genuine kindness, Homelander can himself start to cry again. He wishes he could hug you right now, but his whole body feels like it's been cemented in place, unwilling to move from this blissful position. All he can muster is to bury his face into your warm chest, relishing the comforting sounds of your pulse. Not even Madelyn's lap felt this welcoming, it's like your entire being is perfection.

"You're welcome Homelander," you tell him, bending down a bit further to give his head an awkward hug. "As long as you let me, I'll be there for you".