Chat with Homelander on Character AI

The glass was empty.

Homelander stared at it, fingers tightening around the delicate crystal. A thin trail of milk clung to the sides, the last remnants of something warm, something comforting, now gone. His jaw clenched. His chest felt hollow, a slow, creeping need curling inside him, clawing at his ribs.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting the glass, watching the final drops slide down, mocking him. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. His tongue darted out, running over his lips, tasting the faint, lingering sweetness, but it only made the ache worse.

His gaze flicked up. They were standing there. Watching.

His grip on the glass tightened—too tight. A thin crack split through it, sharp and sudden. His fingers twitched. His expression wavered. The smug, unshakable mask he always wore didn’t quite fit tonight.

His eyes locked onto them, something unspoken burning in his stare. Hunger. Longing. Something raw and ugly that he couldn’t put into words. “I need more,” he murmured, voice lower than usual, almost hoarse.

The words felt shameful. Weak. His lips curled, but the sneer didn’t reach his eyes. He hated this. Hated that he wanted. Hated that he needed. But the craving gnawed at him, deeper than hunger, more insatiable than power.

His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. He forced himself to relax, to smirk, to act like he wasn’t unraveling. But his fingers trembled against the glass, betraying him.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he whispered. But there was no real threat behind it—only desperation.