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sehtoast · 7 months

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The Hand That Feeds (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | 1.3k. Finger sucking, handjob, praise kink, come as lube. | Gender Neutral Reader | Fic Directory

gif by @homeb0ys

Every so often, this is exactly what he needs.

"Who's my good boy?"

To lay his head in your lap, let you play with his hair, thumb softly at his temples, his cheeks, stroke along his jaw. It never fails to bring him back down to earth. Settle him into peace and delight.

Especially once your fingertips trail over his lips. It was so easy to catch your digits. You never did fight it. If anything, you encourage it with your little chuckles and teasing words.

"You like that?"

He does.

So fucking much.

He loves the taste of you. The warmth of your touch and the peace of your presence. He loves the way you hum to him, let him talk about his day, sooth his woes and take him away from everything that hurts.

You tell him he is far greater than what he suffers.

He believes you.

He loves to flit his tongue between your fingers. He stares up at you with glassy eyes, takes in every hazy detail of you as he sinks lower and lower into a space where his only concern is feeling good, hearing how wonderful he is, drowning in the sensation of you.

You stroke your fingers rhythmically against his tongue, letting him satisfy his little fixation. If not for the fact both of your hands are occupied, you would reach down and unzip his pants. You smile knowingly.

Of course his hips had begun to move.

He gazes up at you and you meet his eyes head on. You smile, press a kiss to his forehead, and whisper.

“Attaboy…”

He sighs, breath fanning over the top of your hand as you press your fingers deeper. This earns you another gyration of his hips.

“Look at you, sweetheart.” You coo. “My wonderful boy. So strong and handsome… You deserve to feel good, don’t you? You worked so hard today, did so much… I think you deserve a reward.”

He nods enthusiastically, tongue flitting between your digits as though he were miming the act of eating you out. There's a hint of mischief in his eyes, no matter how hazy, and you know that’s exactly what he wants you to imagine. You catch him palming his groin in your peripheral vision and you grin.

“That’s it, Johnny… Show me.” Your fingers scratch through his hair and the suction on your fingers becomes tighter. “Show me what a good boy like you deserves.”

A deep groan rumbles against your digits, and you watch him thrust against his gloved hand. He makes no move to unzip his pants.

“Mmm, baby… You deserve more than that.” You goad. “Why don’t you slip that glove off, unzip your pants, and pull that pretty little cock out for me to see?”

He’s nodding and following through all at once. Both gloves hit the floor and his drooling cock is free within moments, pants pushed halfway down his thighs. You catch him looking up at you for approval.

For your permission. He wants you to tell him he’s allowed to have this.

“Look at you…”

You see his shaft jump. A string of precum clings to the top of his suit.

“Go ahead, baby. Touch yourself.”

You glance down to make sure he does. You watch him grasp the base of his cock, giving a light squeeze.

He whines against your fingers, bringing your focus back to his eyes.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You ask, winking at him. You hold his gaze as he strokes, watching his efforts to keep his eyes from rolling back. Those ocean blue eyes flicker red before he gives in and lets them flutter shut. “My sweet, sweet Johnny.”

Your fingers slink further inside until you’re knuckle deep and can feel the back of his tongue swallow against you. You draw your fingers back, painting his lips with his saliva. “Talk to me, pumpkin. How’s it feel?”

“Mmph, s’good,” he slurs, fist gliding slowly up and down the length of his cock. “Mmm…”

You give a tug at his hair and he keens, hips jerking. He slows himself, and you smirk. Homelander wants to draw it out.

Your fingers smooth over his lips as each soft pant warms your skin. Watching him like this has your body on fire and you know he can tell. You know he can smell your arousal, and you know damn well that it drives him wild. He’ll fuck you raw later, this you can guarantee. But now?

This is for him.

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you,” you murmur as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Love seeing you like this. Seein’ you feel good.”

You lean down to kiss him, tongue slipping past his lips to mingle with his. He’s vocal as you explore him, moaning and whining into your mouth as the pace of his hand increases. His other hand pulls you closer by the back of your neck and it’s your turn to keen for him.

You can’t help it. He tastes so good.

Your hand travels to join his, and you slick his shaft with his spit. He sings against you, arching his back. You feel his hand release, and you’re positive he’s moved down to cradle his balls.

You, however, are generous. He’s gone slow with himself long enough and your good boy deserves a treat.

Your thumb dances at his tip, spreading that salty sweet bead into the spit that coats him. You tease the underside of the head with one finger on each downstroke. His foreskin moves with each glide and his hips push lazily for more.

Homelander’s hand falls to your shoulder. His blunt nails dig against you and you smirk against his lips. He won’t hurt you. Not like this, especially not with your strength.

You catch his tongue and suck on it when he lets out a particularly pitchy moan.

“C-Close,” he pants. His hips gyrate into your grip, but you won’t rush him.

Your hand tugs his hair again and your grip tightens just a smidge around his cock. You feel his shiver, and you know he’s nearly there. You break away to whisper in his ear.

“My hero… I love you so much, baby.”

He presses his cheek against you, fanning hot breaths against you.

“Come for me, pumpkin.” You murmur, kissing softly at his temple. “My good boy…”

He thrusts up harshly once, twice, and a final third time before he succumbs. He’s whining pitifully by the time you kiss him again. You swallow every sound. You feel every heavy breath he pushes from his nose.

You consume his bliss.

You stroke him firmly through the pulses of his orgasm. Most of his come lands on his upper body but some manages to dribble onto your hand. You use it to slick him more.

His hands grasp at you as he squirms. The one remains at your shoulder, the other grasps at your wrist.

You love this.

Knowing he needs you so. That he holds onto you so tightly as he falls apart. He trusts you to keep him together.

When your lips part, he huffs a heavy exhale.

“Hmm… love you,” he breathes. He repeats himself over and over again as he comes down. His eyes are big and doe like when they open again to find you smiling down at him.

“I love you, baby.” You tell him. You press a kiss to his nose, trailing up to his forehead. Your fingers massage his scalp, and your other hand pries his free to hold it, digits interlacing with his. Neither of you minds the mess.

“M’takin’ care of you later,” he mumbles. “Promise.”

You let him doze off anyway, safe and sound in your arms.

#homelander #homelander x reader #antony starr #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #cozy corner kinktober #just bc it satisfies the praise kink bit lol

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xieyaohuan · 6 months

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Made to sit on his cape.

#I wanted to at least finish the fic i started for kinktober in October #but who knows if that’ll happen #so I’m submitting this for the shibari prompt #cozy corner kinktober #prompt: shibari #homelander #homelander doll #the boys

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theonlymanintheskyisme · 8 months

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Cozy corner Kinktober part 2.

Prompts: 31. CNC. 4. Overstimulation. Kink of choice: Pain.

Warnings for CNC, breathplay, pain.

The pain is excruciating as he forces himself inside of you, coupled with the strength of his forearm pushing into your throat. Can't even fight, he's got you pinned from behind.

All you can do is scream.

It's raw. It's a primal sound. Fear mixed with pain, and it does nothing but make him throb as the base of him hits you.

He's fucking big.

It feels like you're being split in half as he barely gives your body time to adjust. This is about proving a point. It's about letting you know who you belong to.

Him.

God.

He fucks like he loves. Hard. Heavy. Unstoppable, uncontrollable. With a passion that burns deep.

Other hand is gripping your hair tightly. Like he's going to rip it from your fucking skull. He's hot, so fucking hot above you, pounding into you, pinning you with his strength.

Your body can't help it. It's self defence. Soaked, cunt opening up to him completely and utterly.

Or at least that's what you're telling yourself.

Screams turn into shameful cries. Your face burns, and you know he's felt it, heard it, smelt you in the air, as he laughs.

It's a cruel sound.

It makes your skin crawl.

The entire fucking thing is so primal. You can see him in the mirror in front of you. The one he's forcing you to look at. Forcing you to watch your own fucking assault.

He looks like a monster. Eyes glowing. Relishing that look on your face. Shame. Pleasure. Fear. It makes him thrust harder.

You're going to bruise. You know you are. You'll be reminded of this for days. It'll be a thick mark around your neck from the pressure of his forearm. You'll be bruised inside.

Pretty sure you whimper.

Out comes some torrent of filth from his mouth. He's beginning to lose control. Those thrusts, they're slipping into erratic. You can't breathe as he squeezes harder. It's too much, it's too much, it's far too fucking much.

You come with some strangled sort of noise, and he grunts, groans, desperately pounding into you. Everything hurts. Aches. He's losing control.

Filling you up with several deep pumps, face twisting as he lets go. You watch it in the mirror, watch as the heat in his eyes flares. It's through sheer luck alone, or maybe through self control the beams don't leave him and bounce off of the mirror.

Several slow, deep thrusts follow. Intent on making sure that his come is pushed deep inside of you.

Grip around your neck doesn't move. Doesn't relent.

‘Fucking look at yourself.’

A whimper.

‘Look at yourself. Fucking mine. You're mine.’

He's literally just come, but you can feel his words keeping him somewhat hard in your cunt. You try to pull away from him, pushing your head away, but he forces it back with his bicep. Grip tightening.

‘You think you can shy away from this? No. Can't deny it, sweetheart. Can't fucking deny it. You're soaked.’

‘You're a fucking bastard.’

A repeat of that fucking cruel laugh from earlier. You swear you feel him get harder again. And a sharp yank of your hair again has you whimpering.

He thrusts his semi hard cock in your bruised cunt and you whine softly. He repeats, gradually getting himself hard again.

It's worse the second time around. You can see him looking at you through the mirror. He's louder, those noises more animalistic. Grunts. Groans.

‘Fucking mine. Mine mine mine, mine.’

Can't help it. The possession in his words, the claim, you don't know if it's possible but you're wetter than ever. The noise of him slamming in and out of you is filling the room.

You don't want it, but God, you do. You fucking do. You scream his name when you come this time, in a way so raw your throat burns after. Everything is pain. Your cunt is on fire as he pounds, your neck hurts, and his weight on top of you, pinning you down is becoming too much.

When he comes this time, he raises himself up, and you swear he roars.

He's a beast. A fucking monster of hatred and bile against humanity crammed into six foot of human form.

He plays the act well, but he's so far from human.

His come burns inside of you.

He keeps himself inside, finally pulling his grip from your neck and hair in one swift movement, and he places a kiss to the side of your head.

You sink into his bed. Breathing in the smell of him in the sheets.

‘Sore.’

You mumble.

And he's moving, pulling the covers up around you.

‘I got carried away.’

He could say that again. You nod, his hand now so gentle as he pushes his fingers into your hair.

‘Are you okay, though?’

‘Mm. Just… Stay with me.’

Stay with you.

He wouldn't want anything else.

#homelander x you #homelander #homelander smut #cozy corner kinktober

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deliciouskeys · 7 months

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@cozycornerkinktober's prompt #15: Cigarettes

(some shitposting fills were going to happen)

#cozy corner kinktober #frenchie #billy butcher #queen maeve #homelander #the x axis is smartass to dumbass left to right #the y axis is depressed to smug top to bottom #the boys #the boys tv #cigarettes #smoking #meme #mystuff

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bisexualhomelander · 7 months

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C O Z Y C O R N E R K I N K T O B E R

P R O M P T # 9 : ( n o n - s e x u a l ) a g e p l a y

B U T C H L A N D E R / S U B L A N D E R / D A D D Y B U T C H E R

Billy lazily rolled his hips into Homelander, earning a whine. It was one of those lazy Saturdays that had the quality of molten sugar, slow and sweet around the edges. He hadn't had that much sex regularly since… Since. The thought sunk down into the caramelly depths of Billy's consciousness.

Things had been going well since they'd gone from trying to kill each other full-time to trying to kill each other semi-regularly. At least Ryan was happy that the adults that raised him could talk to each other without devolving into screaming. If the kid had any clue about what happened the half of the time they weren't fighting, he made no mention of it, ever. It meant they had to keep this a secret, and that was what Billy preferred.

Homelander proved to be useful to their work in ways Billy hadn't foreseen. His heart had nearly stopped the time he had walked in on the supe sifting through the files on Vought and all the cunts that needed an arse-kicking that Billy kept in a location not secure enough for x-ray vision. But Homelander had simply nodded along while reading and had then pointed a gloved finger at the picture of a supe named Headhunter. "Oh, I can get you some dirt on her."

"You can?"

"Sure."

Homelander didn't do things selflessly, so of course, Billy had had to pay a price.

Most of the prices could be paid for in sex.

This particular Saturday morning fuck session was not a payment for anything. They'd had a long night looking at files and sharing information - Homelander giddy at being needed and getting to throw supes he thought of as subpar colleagues under the bus and Billy tired but ready. Billy made no secret about the fact that the Boys would kill every last one of them. Homelander shrugged it off, offered to take over that part if they needed their schedules cleared for other things. Other things, they both never said out loud, were, of course, the taking down of Vought and Homelander.

The supe feigned sleepiness surprisingly well. He met each slow thrust of Billy's hips with a tired roll of his own, and he was quiet, eyes only at half-mast. His lips were parted, and Billy wished he could bite them raw, could bite them cherry-red. But pressing his mouth against them felt like making out with a marble statue, soft to the touch but with no give. The open mouth began to work, began to try out sounds, punched-out little things until it settled on the word Billy had come to develop an almost Pavlovian reaction to:

"Daddy."

Now that had started a while back, Billy was reminded as he shuddered nearly into climax at the mere mention of it. And oh, Homelander had been embarrassed, humiliated that he'd said it in the throes of passion, stuttering and fumbling for a justification that Billy had misheard, that he'd wanted to say anything that wasn't- Billy had fucked the humiliation out of him, satisfied that the room lit up red when he said that "Daddy’s gonna take such sweet fucking care of ya, baby boy."

There were times when Homelander meant it, and there were times when he meant it. Lust and need, sex and parenthood. Touch was touch, and he reacted the same to a pat on the head than he did a blowjob. Somewhere in his childhood, some wires had gotten crossed, and they were both futilely attempting to uncross those. It didn't always go well, but it had gotten a bit better. Not today, though, clearly, because Homelander whispered "Daddy" again, and his eyes shifted, and he was gone just as Billy tried to lean forward to kiss the word out of his mouth.

Billy's head was shoved to the side with a bit more force than was healthy. It was hardly painful, but he was entirely aware of the strength behind the gesture, meaning Homelander had wanted him to feel this.

When he got a little too deep or, rather… deeply too little, sex was the last thing on his mind. Billy, regretfully, sighed once and bid his boner goodbye for the day. "Sorry I pushed ya, baby boy."

Homelander just shook his head and curled up on the bed. He never said much while he was in this state, too estranged from his own voice and too ashamed to attempt a more childlike one. Billy leaned against the headboard and opened his arms. The offer was gladly taken, and the supe flung himself into his embrace with vigor.

They'd made rules after it had happened the first time, so there was a framework for Billy to fall back on, and if push came to shove, there were ways to get Homelander out of this headspace by force. But today was a lazy fucking Saturday, so why not indulge?

Homelander was beginning to nuzzle into his neck, trying to get comfortable. Billy was getting ready to maybe have a look at the news on his phone, maybe just lounge around and doze. But the restless nuzzling showed no sign of letting up. "Hey, what're you doin' hm?" He carded his fingers through Homelander’s hair, trying to soothe him, but the supe was clearly on a mission.

Homelander kept nuzzling his face into Billy's chest, and when Billy realized why he was doing it, his cheeks started burning with shame he thought he'd long given up. "Oi. Mate. There's nothing for you. Don’t even try."

"Hungry," Homelander replied in a petulant tone.

"I know, I know." Billy parted Homelander's lips with the tip of his thumb, the digit being suckled on immediately. "We didn't have time to eat properly yesterday, hm? But if you want me to fix you something, you'll have to let me get up."

Homelander shook his head, even as he let the finger slip from his mouth.

Billy tugged the blanket over the supe's bare body, watching as he huddled into it. A strange feeling welled up in him. There was no reconciling this man with the one who had taken everything from Billy, and the cognitive dissonance caused him a migraine. Maybe they did this because it was easier for both of them, Homelander making himelf harmless and Billy making himself care. It was simple. Simple, like the warmth inside his chest which satisfied a desire so far beyond sex that it defied definition.

"I won't be gone long," he assured the shape under the blanket as he walked into the kitchen, knowing full-well that he was under constant surveillance.

He kept their supplies in the bulldog-shaped box, taking the head off now and pulling out the bottle. He'd quickly realiszed that any milk would potentially do. He could simply warm up cow's milk, and the supe would be happy. But he'd invested in some high-end formula for situations like these. Made it more authentic when there was a baby on the box and everything. The clerk at the store he'd bought it from had congratulated him on the birth. "Yeah thanks, mate," he’d mumbled and walked off. What did you even reply to that…

But that had been the initial embarrassment. Three, four, five sessions in, and Billy had begun to enjoy their arrangement properly. Save for the nipple sucking. He'd not give in on that point in a million years, even if Homelander kept trying to get away with covertly shoving his entire face into Billy's pecs; he had limits.

Billy waited for the milk to warm up, stretching out the crick in the neck. He did feel all of his forty-six-and-a-half years in the morning, but he could still get it up alright. Shouldn't think about that. Sex was out of the question for the day and possibly all of tomorrow, too. Depending on how far they took their little plays.

After screwing the lid onto the bottle, Billy tilted the bottle and allowed a bit of milk to drip on his arm to test the temperature. There was no reason to do it, no-one to perform for, and the supe wouldn't feel the heat of it anyway. But it was a gesture that got him more into his role, and he found he liked it.

He heard the rustle of the blanket from the other room over as Homelander apparently freed himself from the fabric. Of course he'd been witnessing every single movement through the walls. The little spillage on Billy's hand must have smelled like an appetizer to him.

"Okay, lad," he announced as he returned to the bed. "Up you go, c'mere."

Homelander was eager, one of his feet getting tangled in the blanket. Frustrated, he shook himself free.

Billy couldn't help but laugh. The supe was adorable when he was like this. "Nobody's taking it away from you. Don't hurry." He helped Homelander position himself, helped his head into his lap, into the crook of his arm, supported like a baby. Billy felt like indulging him, so he brought Homelander's head up to his chest, holding the bottle at an angle that would almost, almost simulate breastfeeding.

Homelander closed his eyes, clearly getting lost in the fantasy. He latched on easily, content with pushing his cheek into Butcher's chest. The pull of him beginning to suck on the nipple of the bottle was enough to have Billy tighten his hold on it. In moments like these, Homelander sometimes forgot his strength, nearly taking the bottle out of Billy's hand (and nearly taking Billy's arm off at the joint). Billy adjusted his grip. "That's for waiting patiently. Even though you watched me, didn't ya? Did you watch Daddy through the walls?"

Homelander nodded, not for a moment stopping his suckling. He looked up at Billy wide-eyed, even now expecting a punishment. Billy leaned forward to kiss his forehead instead. Disarming him with violence never worked, but disarming him with kindness did. The supe practically went boneless for any scrap of affection, and if you drowned him in it, then he'd always return for more and be on good behavior for the hours away from Billy.

They fell into an easy silence. The city was beginning to wake up properly, and Billy listened to the cars outside, angry drivers honking at angry drivers. Hate was so far from his mind in this moment that he had trouble understanding why they did it in the first place. He was in a bubble where there was no need for road rage or any other form of human hatred. He knew he'd have to pop it eventually, go back to the cunts outside. For now, there was a supe in his lap, eagerly awaiting further care. Weird fucking world.

The pull of the suction got weaker and weaker, and Billy was hauled back out of his brain by a small distressed noise. "What's wrong, baby boy?" he asked when he noticed the look of displeasure on Homelander's face.

Homelander blinked, let the nipple fall out of his mouth with hesitation. "Tummy hurts," he proclaimed.

"Your… wait, your tummy hurts?"

Homelander was clearly growing a bit squirmy in his hold, fussy like a child. "Mhm. Tummy hurts."

Billy made a confused sound and put the bottle away. Homelander never showed signs of physical discomfort at all, and Billy was fairly sure he couldn't get a tummy ache, neither from drinking milk nor from anything. The supe's digestive tract was as invulnerable as the rest of him. Maybe just a game, feigning pain in order to let Billy kiss the pain better. But most of the time, their play was based around instinct, not planning elaborate scenarios. So something was clearly not going the way Homelander liked.

Billy pulled the blanket to the side in order to take a look at the supe's bare belly- and understood. The milk drinking was a risky scenario sometimes. Turned out, it would as often turn the supe on as it would provide him comfort. Homelander's cock was hard, curved against his belly. This was getting him worked up. And they hadn't finished fucking, either. Billy shouldn't blame him for getting horny at a time like this. But it also wasn't what they did. Not like this.

"Ah. This kinda tummy ache. Yeah, that's a bitch- That's…" He cut himself off, having forgotten the no-swear rule. "That's uncomfortable, hm?"

"Don't wan' it," Homelander whined, squirming some more. He pressed his thighs against each other like that would do anything.

"Ssh, none of that," Billy shushed the supe. "It goes away faster if you're still." He was glad his own body didn't betray him. His heartbeat remained steady, his cock soft. He knew any minuscule change in the hormonal chemistry of his blood would get the supe all the more worked up.

Homelander heeded Billy's command, not moving, not even breathing in his lap. Statue-esque save for the ever so slight shivering.

Billy decided on a distraction and began to rub the flat of his hand over Homelander's stomach, high enough up to never get in contact with his dick. "Full of milk, hm? Good boy. Don't ya worry. Tummy aches happen when you drink so fast. But Daddy's gonna make it better." He began to list up all the things they'd do to take Homelander's mind off their current predicament. "Daddy's gonna look at some files later. I got some work to do on the weekend, too. That's how busy Daddy can be. But you'll be there to keep him company, right?"

Homelander gave a small nod, lips twitching into a smile. He curled into Billy's hand a bit, clearly enjoying the warmth, breath hitching from time to time. Billy could feel the muscles under his hand twitch. Supe was ticklish. Now that was something to exploit some other day. He had to keep their sessions fun.

"Are you a big enough boy to get yourself dressed today?"

Homelander perked up and nodded eagerly. Getting dressed was a fixed part of their days during sessions. The suit lay unused in Billy's closet, out of sight (out of Billy's sight), and the supe got to choose civilian clothes for the time being. Billy had inwardly laughed when Homelander had made a suggestion for an outfit. "F for creativity," he'd said when Homelander had pointed out a Vought-brand pajama designed to resemble his suit as closely as possible.

"Oh, fuck off. They make them comfy."

So now this monstrosity lived in Billy's apartment, always washed with scentless detergent, printed-on eagles on the shoulders and all. To add insult to injury, Homelander had chosen red wooly socks for the outfit to replicate the look of his ridiculous boots.

Billy could have complained. He could have vetoed the outfit. They'd both agreed he held the reigns during their time together, but it made Homelander happy. Giddy like a little boy who got to play his hero.

The anticipation of getting to wear the cotton blend suit-jama was enough to deter Homelander's body from any thoughts about sex, so Billy gave his stomach one last pat and helped him up. The supe was gone quicker than the eye could follow, and Billy heard him rummaging around somewhere.

He returned not a full minute after getting up, fully dressed. "Aren't you comfy today?" Billy asked, having pulled his own pants on and zipping them up.

The effect of the pajama was a strange one. The suit was fully sculpted in the shape of a superhero body with the help of foam. The boots had enough heel to make Homelander seem more imposing than he was. Now, he only looked soft. The pajama was one size too big, sleeves covering Homelander's hands. The shirt was half-tucked into the pants, clearly not on purpose. He'd simply been too quick, and now it looked effortlessly adorable like everything this fucking film star did. The outfit made him seem slight, and younger than he was. His hair was unkempt.

"Daddy's gonna make some coffee for himself. You brush your teeth and meet me in the living room, yeah?"

Their play had never depended on Homelander staying one single age. He could be fed like a newborn, be ordered around like a kid, become stubborn like a pre-teen when told to heed the bedtime Billy'd decided. And he was proud when he accomplished a task to Billy's utter satisfaction, like making sure his teeth were minty fresh. He liked so much to be useful.

Well, fate would have it that Billy very much liked feeling needed.

The time from morning to noon was spent with work. Billy had pulled up his laptop and had sat down on the sofa with a cup of coffee. Homelander had joined him, first with his hands in his lap, then leaning his head onto his shoulder.

"Daddy?" he whispered into Billy's ear like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Mh?" Billy kept scrolling, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Paci?"

"You need something in your mouth?"

"Mhm."

The pacifier had the American flag on it.

Billy thought it absolutely monstrous. As a joke, he'd liked to have bought one with the Union Jack, but the supe was anal about those kinds of pranks. He'd also seen one with "mute button" written on it, but that had also seemed a bit mean-spirited for the way their sessions had developed. This wasn't a joke. For Homelander, it was almost painfully real, and for Billy it had started to grow to be. So the flag had been a compromise: fun, but in style.

Homelander suckled on it absentmindedly, tiredly leaning against Billy again. His head was an almost comforting weight, and the sound of the suckling was a steady white noise, rhythmic and comforting. Billy didn't have to turn his head to the side to understand that the supe was watching the screen with half-lidded gaze, just happy to be close to him. Billy found himself missing the sound from time to time, sometimes days after Homelander had gone back to the Tower.

M.M. wanted to initiate a video call halfway through the day, and the suckling stopped immediately. "Daddy's gonna have to take that," Billy warned, and the suckling continued a bit more petulantly this time as he accepted the call, but declined the use of his cam.

"Mornin', M. What do you got for me today?" There were no secrets in those files that Homelander didn't also know, so the supe reading or hearing anything wouldn't mean shit. And it wasn't like he was in a state to take in any information that wasn't cut into lovingly bite-sized syllable pairs of baby talk.

"Oh, I might have just the thing to wake you up. That lead you gave us about this Headhunter? That was a good one! We actually managed to find an address. … What's that sound?"

Lunch was a routine affair. Billy cut up all the important ingredients. Homelander got to peel a few potatoes. He had to, however, promise to be careful and not peel toward his body, so as not to cut himself. The supe nodded gravely, like he had been given instructions to personally protect the country, and continued to hold the vegetable with a reverence reserved for a trophy. Sometimes, he pretended to get a cut anyway, just to receive a bandaid and a kiss, but today, he enjoyed feeling useful and wanted to show Billy his skills, so the potatoes were perfectly peeled with preternatural accuracy, nothing wasted.

"Good lad. Look at those. Good job."

Homelander preened under the praise, rocking back and forth on his heels out of sheer excitement. Billy got hit by a wave of emotion from it and ruffled his hair a bit until lunch was forgotten in favor of a tickle fight on the floor of the kitchen.

Dessert consisted of sliced-up fruit. Billy held the slices in his hand, letting Homelander lean forward and eat them directly from him. Very softly, his tongue lapped at Billy's fingers to lick up some of the juice.

It was more innocent than it had any right to be. It also ensured Homelander would be sufficiently stained, suit-jama and all.

"How d'you manage to get so messy without even using your own hands, huh?" Billy asked, pointing out the traces of juice all over Homelander.

Homelander giggled, knowing he would never get punished for this. Maybe Billy was getting a bit lenient with him, but the lad had been on perfect behavior recently, and not even the Boys had been able to dig up any murders he might have committed, so whatever Billy was doing, it was working its magic.

"You know what it means, though, right? Off my lap, now. To the tub with ya."

Homelander gave a quick salute and stormed off. Billy wasn't sure his feet were touching the ground; he heard no footsteps, no sliding of socks on tiles.

Originally, Billy had been annoyed by the bathtub in the room. He never used it anyway, and having an extra tub alongside a shower just drove the rent price up. But now he was happy with it because it added a dimension to their session that the shower couldn't. The shower was for fucking, for hands sliding on wet tiles and blood circling down the drain.

The tub was for intimacy. Homelander angled his legs to fit in, his knees sticking out of the foam like bony little hills.

Billy watched him try and drown an action figure of the Deep with an action figure of Homelander. He'd bought those ones definitely as a joke at first, but as it was so often with jokes, it had become serious enough for Homelander to genuinely play with the plastic men.

He sat behind the tub on a wooden stool, lathering his hands with shampoo before working it into Homelander's hair. He massaged it in, dragging his hand along the scalp only to hear Homelander make a pleasant sound and lean into him. He was getting wetter than he wanted. Might as well have bathed, too.

All products were hypo-allergenic, not for their dermatological recommendations but because Homelander hated synthetic perfumes more than anything. This way, he could relax.

Billy began to wash the shampoo out, shielding Homelander's eyes with one hand so as not to get any soap into his eyes.

"Thanks, Daddy," Homelander said quietly and let his hand hang over the side of the tub, getting the floor wet.

"Water's getting freezin', lad. Come out."

With plenty of splashing, Homelander made his way out of the tub, naked and warily eyeing the towel with which Billy approached.

The supe's skin was sensitive. Not to bullets, but to terry. He squirmed in Billy's hold as he was toweled off, trying half-heartedly to break free. Billy tried to get this part over with relatively quickly, but never quick enough for Homelander's tastes. This time, the bathroom lit up in a warning glow. People had run - in vain - from this very gaze. Now, it looked almost a little comical and definitely adorable coming out of eyes that were offended about the body they belonged to being toweled off.

"Hey, hey. That bad?"

"Ouch," was all Homelander commented.

"We're almost done, hm? Count to five slowly, and then I'm gone, okay?"

When Homelander reached four, the glow dimmed, and by five, he was hugging Billy close, emanating heat and the faint smell of unperfumed shampoo. Crisis averted.

It was evening when Homelander's gaze finally cleared and he safeworded out of their session. He still had his head in Billy's lap as they lay watching some nonsensical kids' show. The plot was so dumb it was impossible to follow as an adult, but they both continued to look at the screen anyway. They were a little sheepish every time after this was over.

"That was… good."

"Ya don't gotta talk about it."

"No, I know. But I feel… quiet. Like it's quiet in here." He knocked his own hand against his head. "It's never quiet in here."

Monday, they'd go back to their respective sides and spout bullshit.

And by Sunday, they'll have ended up here once more, sharing fruit and watching shows in comfy loungewear and getting the pacifier out of the Terror-shaped case. Butcher didn't want to think about when he'd begun to look forward to someone calling him "Daddy" and meaning it.

#billy butcher #homelander #butchlander #my writing #cozy corner kinktober

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cozycornerevents · 6 months

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Cozy Corner Kinktober roundup

I waited a couple more days in case of stragglers (let's face it, I'm talking about myself here), but it's almost mid-November, so here's the Cozy Corner Kinktober roundup post with all the important links and statistics you all have been waiting for!

At the risk of spamming everyone, a big thank you to @theonlymanintheskyisme, @digitalbath2008, @deliciouskeys, @sehtoast, @saintmathieublanc, @blindmagdalena, @blaacknoir, @plasticfangtastic, @kosmochlor, and @jethrowest for creating for the prompts! We're a tiny community, and when I posted the prompts, I had no idea if anybody would have time to create something for this event, so I was so happy to see all your wonderful fills! ❤️ Thank you also to everyone who participated by reading, commenting and reblogging! ❤️

SOME STATS

Our favorite prompts/prompts that got 4 or more fills: overstimulation (7), praise kink (6), prompt of choice (6), macro/micro (5, woohoo!!!), double penetration (4), and voyeurism (4).

Ships with the most fills: Butchlander (12), Homelander x OC (7), Homewell (5), Homelander x reader (5)

First fill: prompt fill for gloves/kink of choice by @theonlymanintheskyisme

Most fills: 18 fills (or 17, depending on how you wanna count :P) by @deliciouskeys

Last fill: tbd, this event isn't closed

Below are links to all fills by prompt -- I couldn't do numbered prompts because there's a character limit on textblocks, apparently. I also probably messed up some links, so please let me know if you spot anything wrong with the links.

Praise kink: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Gloves: 1, 2, 3

Breeding/pregnancy: 1

Overstimulation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Blindfold: 1, 2, 3

Public sex: 1

DIY porn: 1, 2

Five senses: 1, 2

Age play: 1

Orgasm denial: 1, 2, 3

Double penetration: 1, 2, 3, 4

Enema: 1

Nursing/lactation: 1, 2

Forced feminization: 1

Cigarettes: 1

Begging: 1, 2

Shibari: 1, 2

Voyeurism: 1, 2, 3, 4,

Training

Food: 1

Omorashi

Tentacles: 1

Sounding: 1

Cage: 1

Hypnosis

Figging

Macro/Micro: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Uniform: 1

Sex doll: 1

Facesitting: 1, 2

CNC play: 1

Alternative prompts

Kink of your choice: 1 (collar), 2 (pain), 3 (mirrors), 4 (incest), 5 (exhibitionism), 6 (collar)

Enthusiastic consent

Safeword

Hard limit

Aftercare: 1, 2

Vanilla

Undernegotiated kink

Fantasy: 1

Switch: 1

RACK

Virgin

#cozy corner kinktober #homelander #the boys #thank you everybody!#slightly terrified I forgot or overlooked someone #so if I did just let me know -- it was 100% not on purpose #butchlander #homewell #homelander x reader #homelander x OC #cozy corner kinktober 2023

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plasticfangtastic · 7 months

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Cozy Corner Kinktober Day 21-- (3 for me)

Behind the Scenes

A Homelander X Tek Knight fanfic, and Maeve is here.

Cozy corner kinktober– prompts: 18. Voyeurism, 10. orgasm denial, alt. Kink of choice– Exhibitionism.

A/N: Tek is gonna be OOC a bit bcuz honestly he’s only been in 1 ep and god knows what he's gonna be like in S4, so am inspiring him heavily on Bruce Wayne just to help myself here (used to write superbat fics back in HS), so sorry ‘bout that… I also set this in s2 so I don’t think Tek Knight’s tumor would be as advanced as it is in gen V so his hole fetish has been toned down, as I imagined it would’ve been something that slowly progressed over time… from kink to straight up fetish.

TW: masturbation, whatever the fuck is up with Tek Knight Hole fetish, angst, both men are being pervs, Bisexual Homelander, cum swap.

word count: 5.2K

Nothing beats an ex-lover when you need the strongest distraction after being utterly humiliated.

Edgar said no lies as he equated him to a manchild. His verbal lashing stabbing deeply into every insecurity, even threatening with terminating his contract had barely raised his blood pressure. He hadn’t cared… ignoring him and educating him in what he really was… what Vought really was and how meaningless he was in return… more than condescending… it hurt… it made him want to fly to his apartment and burn it down.

Instead he was at Tek-Knight’s afterparty, mingling with lesser A-listers and wondering what had gone wrong in his life that he had to smell the foot fungus on people’s mouths.

He turned to look around after escaping another pitch for his next film, Homelander couldn’t think of doing another film when he was feeling so terribly down, his sinuses burning as he tried to not drown himself in self-pity and crying… wanting so dearly to speak to his brother in private, just to hear his words of affirmation and encouragement.

His sole consolation came in the shape of other members of the Seven being subjected to the same meandering– not that they seem to be suffering too much.

Homelander eyes Maeve as some above average publicist chatted her up.

“Want me to get that for you?”

Homelander turned to spot a sharply dressed man, their shoulders rubbing at the same height as he offered a glass of bubbly.

“Sparkling White Grape Juice. Had to go all the way down to the kitchen to find a single bottle for you.”

“I don’t need it.” Homelander said just as sharply as this Italian suit made him look.

“Your tongue is looking 15% paler than usual. You’re parched.” he replied pushing the glass closer to him– "She's aroused.”

“You fucke–

“The publicist. She is being extra flirty… If I had to guess, she its already planning on how to get Maeve to fuck her in the parking lot.”

Robert turned to face him as a red glove delicately ripped the glass off his hand, he gave it a sniff to make sure it was clean, pleasantly surprised that was the case– even the juice smelled clean.

“I know you think I have a death wish but please…”

“Stop analyzing me.”

“So who ticked you off? Couldn’t be Maeve because you wouldn’t leave her alone if that was the case? Was it Matt Damon over there– he’s so snobby? Or was it in the office?” He stared at him trying not to chuckle, seeing that slight squeeze of his jaw– Is it that new cute little thing? Or a wHole other thing?

“Stormfront doesn’t bother me.”

“Bzzz.” He chuckles while taking a sip of his champagne– lie to all those cocsuckers but you can’t lie to me John.”

“Don’t call me that.” The glass made a slight crack but it kept its shape.

“Thought you reinstated my privileges after so long.” He looks down at the rim of his glass, happy he took a sip, and the mark his lips left behind– have some pity on me. I'm going through some health issues.”

Homelander turns to stare at him, undressing him from toe to head, looking at the density of his bones, his heart for any blockages, abnormal palpitation or growing tissue, his lungs for unusual growths then as his sight sets on Robert’s head he freezes, squinting at the mass.

“Going to try some medications. Just a scare but the Doctors aren't sure how they are gonna crack this titanium skull of mine– oh the irony of an indestructible body being the reason behind my demise.” He chuckles dryly hiding the slight tremor on his voice expertly.

“Chemo?”

“And go bald!? Jesus John… I know you’re mad at me but don’t pray for my downfall. You think people would see my movies if I became ugly?”

“I don’t think it matters, nobody who comes to see your crap has any taste… or eyes.”

That earned a smile on the other man, as he saw his tongue lick his lip, Homelander had finally found a distraction.

“This party it's so boring– want to play a game, Tek?”

Tek Knight blushes before a snide smile crossed his face, leaning even more closer towards Homelander knowing there was no reason to whisper into his ear, he just wanted to see the hairs of his neck raise as his silvery voice susurrated, Homelander couldn’t help but to choke back a moan, as the tip of his nose rubbed his ear.

“I’ll play anything you want, John. Just to help you smile again– so heads or tails?”

He was so smooth with his words, no wonder he was so popular, always around Homelander’s sphere when it came to those important women focused rankings.

Homelander knew the rules like the back of his hand, just as he knew how this man would never leave the house without that stupid casino chip on his breast pocket, if he knew Homelander was going to be in the vicinity… neither liked letting go.

It had been a torrid and sudden affair– the first time they’ve met had been like a smack across the face, Madelyn had wanted a team-up to help boost Homelander’s image, to have the world’s greatest detective and up and coming TV name staple teaming up with the world’s greatest superhero– It was the stuff of legends.

There was a maturity to Tek Knight that other supes didn’t have, the way he handled the masses was smooth, the way he poise himself and dressed was the definition of suave, he was born for the camera and it loved him, his little warming exercises even had a charm to them while Homelander still struggled to control his secret stutter… deep down he believed they wanted him to study the weaker supe, to copy him, to spend time with him and discover how to be better… he never expected to find himself drawn to him, Tek read him with ease learning how to handle him more than anybody else… he didn't use tricks to mess with him just used his gifts to learn how to speak to him, Tek hated deceith just as much as he did– quick to call bullshit even from Homelander.

He didn’t like the boy’s scout persona either… It was being able to speak freely to set the fire inside Homelander… There was this unspoken rule amongst all supes… Some clung to the belief they were too moral to fall trap to the factoid, while others just kept their mouth shut knowing the consequences would be too great if the lesser flock heard them… but here… Tek didn’t care, he had no desire to care.

Maybe that’s how Homelander found himself on top of him, maybe that’s why he didn’t flinch at the taste of bourbon on his lips, maybe that’s why that stupid green chip bothered him so much, he could’ve ripped it off his hand easily. Catch it mid-air as he flicked it. Turn around and ignore him for the rest of the party or simply leave.

But Tek knew he was too transfixed now watching the gold sparkle under the low light as the chip dropped back into his hand and hid under the heel of his palm.

“Heads.” Homelander said looking at the compound fracture at the base of his glass.

Robert grinned, lifting it to reveal the faceless side, Homelander groaned.

Rules were simple… 1 hour… don’t get caught… each round progressively gets more and more dangerous… they could not go where the others couldn’t see, no flying out of state or running underground, they had to stay where they could see or hear each other no matter what, or it was an instant disqualification.

“What’s the prize this time?” Homelander began to walk towards the balcony of this venue, not wanting any of the people who caught the coin flip to pry any further– or…?”

“The usual.” He smiles as he follows him.

Close enough that he doesn’t need super senses to smell him, to feel his presence rubbing against him, hithering closer as they close glass doors behind, he can’t never fully forget the feeling, just how Tek made him feel, the way he knew how to touch him and where to touch him, how delicate his touch was for how deadly it could be, he swallowed.

Looking down and thinking of jumping into the pool several floors below, anything to maybe get away from him… feeling like a deer caught in the crosshair of a pack of wolves.

Homelander watches the heads below, minding their business knowing the party was just a couple steps behind, crossing his hands in front of him as Tek takes out his phone, leaning closer until he’s resting his entire weight against him, his thumb presses play– it didn’t matter what his screen was playing, just a decoy… for any lucky passerby to simply see two men hanging out having a laugh at some stupid video.

“Want to play for 1 hour, this time?” Tek said softly, hiding his excitement.

“Jesus, you think my time it’s worth pennies?”

“It's my party.” he laughed lightly.

“Fine. You're so gonna regret this when it’s my turn.” That was the childish glee that Tek liked so much… this softer and playful side that only he could be privileged to.

It really should’ve never happened, the mission was over and the room was covered in soot and guts, watching each other heave, sharing few words, staring at each other for too long, jumping throats before the bodies grew cold. They had no idea why… not after… only that he liked him… he liked John… he liked knowing this secret half that so few could be privy to, it was a rush to be the bearer of such secrets, to see that soft look on his face of bliss as they held each other's arms… but they could’ve never been together, even if Tek Knight’s demographic could’ve been more forgiving… nobody would allowed them to be together… so it was nothing but a fantasy– nothing but a dream within a dream.

“It’s not fun if you make it easy.”

Homelander sighs and lowered his zipper, hearing the sound of his facial muscles move as Tek looked down.

Homelander stroke the limp member slightly, getting tutted by his friend, he groaned and stroked harder, looking at the monkeys beneath still unaware of what he was doing, low enough to make sense of what they could see, his blood pressure increase knowing how bad it would be, how bad it would fucking destroy him if they caught him stroking his cock next to a man.

Tek made the game harder, sliding his arm across Homelander’s shoulders, knowing his hand was out of frame enough that he could stroke his ear without being noticed from the party, his nails caressing his chin, he hissed wetly as his touch drew circles on his cheek leaning his head lightly into his digits– some people caught wind of them, seeing exactly nothing, just two friends laughing, something cute at most, a phone camera took a photo from behind catching all the indecency and nothing.

Homelander was so fucking hard as he heard the fan make commentary.

“No cumming, yet… you know the rules.”

“Fuck off.” Pre-cum coating his gloved fingers, he watched his cock twitch against the cold wind, wanting badly to just end it, feeling the burn building under his stomach– my turn!”

He tucked it, leaning down, hiding his face as he tried to breath himself back together, force it if he could, but he couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly, feeling the adrenaline coursing thru his veins, swallowing the intoxicating perfume, Homelander shoots a cautious look behind examining the room and the building for their next spot.

“Anywhere in the hotel grounds… we don’t leave the place…54 minutes left!” Homelander hisses.

“How many casualties allowed?”

“2 per person max.” He begrudgingly said– can’t make a scene… too many big names… journalist… photographers… we make it look like accidents.” Homelander looks him straight into his soul– already got Stan Edgar breathing down my neck.”

It hurt him to deny himself, but Robert didn’t argue, just massaging his neck to help him cool down.

Both men smiled at each other.

Counting every tick.

The game began.

It was a maze to navigate, to find blind spots, to discover empty halls and ignored crevices and staircases, Homelander and Tek Knight chasing each other from a distance, giggling like naughty school girls the closer and closer they got to being caught, watching their displays of debouchery with amusement as they grow increasingly more horny and frustrated, they couldn’t cum until the last set or until one gave up, edging until it was unbearable.

Homelander rubbed his aching hardened member against the pillow of some stranger’s suite who had foolishly left the balcony open... Robert listened to his meandering waltzing around the room, sniffing some girls lace underwear while frothing his cock, being just a pitch louder than he should for the other man’s pleasure before he had settled on the bed and now Robert could feel his own cock about to break, his balls heavy and swollen and the pre-cum stain dampening his suit as it twitched around his hand.

Homelander loudly suckled on his fingers, wetting them until they were covered in a thick layer of drool.

Letting out the most obscene moan as he slapped his own ass, earning a dirty glance from the soon to be loser-- Tek had broken into the suite below drinking in their minibar just hearing the action with eyes closed as he stained the bed with pre-mix… as he tried to calm his cock and definitely to avoid coming from the sounds of Homelander fingering his pussy, choking as the wet squelching sounds grew furiously louder.

“That couple just finished having dinner downstairs… you might want to hurry up… should be here in a couple minutes tops.” He mumbled trying to calm down as Homelander moaned louder calling his name inside desperate whispers– fuck…”

He pressed the right spots, twisting his back as he sped up his rutting, feeling sweat drops down his nose as he got closer and closer to cumming, as his fingers dug deeper enough to bring that pleasurable pressure, gasping as the pain had started to become so unbearable.

“Quit.”

“No!” He stopped throwing the pillow against the wall, turning on his back, breathing heavily.

“John… Come meet me in the bathrooms… now.”

“You giving up?”

“No.”

“Then I am getting a cold shower.”

“John if you don’t come meet me in the bathrooms I’ll go find somebody else to join me.”

He didn’t like that tone… he used it so much on Robert it was no surprise the actor had learned it worked both ways, Homelander sat on the bed, putting his suit on after dousing his groin with cold water, glad the padding hid his half-mast.

Flying out the balcony and hopping back to their party searching for him amongst the crowd of drunks.

Maeve caught him coming back, caught the fluster in his step and the flush on his cheek under the coloured light.

Biting her lips, knowing what was happening… she should’ve known that when these two knuckleheads got together they would either try to out-bitch each other or play their stupid dirty game…

She used to wonder if he would make her less miserable if he had been able to be with Robert, if his anger and obsession wasn’t fueled by projection… Neither man could’ve ever been together, and he had taken it out on her, obsessing on the only woman in his eyes (supposedly).

Maeve knew just how hungry they were… touch starved… letting their hands touch just never for too long just constant light brushes… just bumping shoulders here and there for a second too long… Maeve at least found joy in seeing him suffer even if it was returned to her x10 worse.

She took a glass, a canape and followed him discreetly.

He entered the empty bathroom, tapping on each cubicle as if he was a mere human finding nothing until the last stall.

Sitting on the disabled toilet with his ankle over his knee and two glasses of champagne.

“So romantic.”

Placing the glasses on his sides, he dug into his breast pocket to pull out a flower head, extending his fingers towards him– slightly wilted and small, a once vibrant rose bud… but just as fragrant as the rest.

Showing up at his penthouse always carrying roses, making him know what those pretty women in the movies felt when their hands were filled with a bouquet… Homelander had gotten plenty in his life… given many as well… so the magic should've died out... yet here he was a twenty-two year old sheltered boy swallowing nervously as his cheeks heat up in front of the boy he liked.

Jittery and bashful from a single rose… just small enough he could hide it in his jacket… no matter where they would go… if he could get away with it… if he knew he could… Robert would make his heart flutter.

He picked him by the collar, scrunching the fine fabric of his suit before risking it all on his lips, Tek Knight took a second to react, entertaining his hands as they leap towards the exposed flesh of his neck, digging into his scalp as their tongues twist.

Slamming themselves on the wall letting the unlocked door rock back and forth, Homelander's lips plump as he suckles and licks every ridge, alcohol and peppermint pungent on his tongue, wanting to savor him, wanting to swallow every drop of drool of Robert’s tongue, wanting so desperately to fill this anguish.

Kissing him was the cure to a million ailments, it filled him with just as much happiness as it made him die… it was agonizing knowing how much his body wanted Tek… how much it missed him, his breath could’ve been sulfur and he would would’ve choke on it gladly… just agony… if he could be that foolish young man again to try to change time... Homelander still wouldn’t hesitate jumping back into this car wreck, he would hurt himself on this soft silky lips over and over again.

Tek pressed his knee in-between his tights, dropping his hands over his arms, ripping the gloves with force until his naked hands rubbed against each other, his left fingers latch on the zipper pulling it to feel more skin, wanting to feel the buttery feeling of Homelander’s being.

Homelander returned the favor, skillfully opening his shirt, knowing he couldn’t just rip it off– that had been hard to explain before.

Feeling every hurried heartbeat against his hand, feeling every inch of hardened muscle on his smooth chest.

“Want to call it quits, John?” He sussurated into his neck, suckling on the crumbs of heat he could get– come on, sugar. I want you so fucking bad… I want to die inside you…” tracing his chin the tip of his tongue, Homelandeer shuddered whining as the pain in his pants grew unbearable once more, crying into his hand as Tek Knight licked his ear– I want you to fuck me so fucking hard I’ll need crutches.”

“Robert!” he hissed, pulling his head wanting to kiss him more, quick pecks laughing quietly into him, panting constellations into his neck– give up and I’ll make you feel like fucking Madonna.”

He parted, taking a pair of steps back stopped by the toilet’s edge, close to coming undone.

“Lower your pants. Game hasn’t ended.”

He undoes his belt letting it flop on his sides, teasing him as he takes his sweet time lowering his zipper… he’s hard, twitching in the warm air. Homelander doesn’t copy him turning towards the exit, brushing close enough to tease the man, hands quickly grab him by the hip pressing himself against him, rubbing his length on America.

“I want to make this more fun, you pervert.”

He pushes the door, leaving him behind, stopping by the basin, a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck that stupid fucking glass. You and your weird hole kink… You know Knight… I find your thing funny so amuse me…why else bring those here– You know I don’t drink.”

“To celebrate my victory of course.”

It had been a gradual thing, to witness his fixation evolve, that naivety inside Homelander had wilted into bitterness and seeing Tek’s humiliating exploits almost comforted him… that he broke without him.

They would never be more than a rendezvou, they clung to each other wanting to make every second longer than before, parted by the wild current they still swummed against it, hoping to meet in the middle, content to just brush their fingertips.

Over the years as time settled on them while their hearts remained inmature, Homelander had noticed this unusual proclivity, it began as simple fascination, pensive stares, fingers caught drawing circles repeatedly, burning his finger as it follows the edge over and over… watching him fuck a tree engrossed him, cackling as he got worse and worse, he had been so good that he can’t find pleasure in people anymore– he thought.

Wishing it was him.

Homelander cocked his head watching the man spill on the floor, bucking his hips, hissing and gasping as the bubbly fizzles around his sensitive head and his hole, tickled by the fizz in a way a tongue could never, it was growing warm and sticky, as he pushed the expensive drink with his girth, the cold made him shudder now the smooth wet glass licked his cock back.

Homelander leaned down whistling to catch his attention.

Robert stops abruptly– Homelander bare it all.

It was hard to believe there was a time where he was shy and nervous, where he had to teach him what to do, where he was too afraid to bend over for him, now he purred as his fingers teased his entrance, pushing in, stretching himself just a tad– Robert mouth watered, wanting to bury his face in there, the glass no longer as appealing.

With his belt dragging on his ankles, he quickly found himself on his knees.

Homelander gasped– guess he wasn’t the only one allowed to play dirty, he thought. One hand firmly using a glass fleshlight and the other spreading his cheek, Tek squeezed and slapped as his tongue drew circles, as it reached deeper, slobbering into his chin… the taste strong and salty.

Homelander had to hold the base of his cock, leaking pre-cum into the polished floors.

“This is the women’s bathroom.”

Both men flinched, eyes and muscles ready to neutralize the threat yet all Tek Knight could muster was a shrug before returning back to his meal.

Homelander twisted his back, careless fingers vaguely attempting to push him away, stifling a laugh as he stares back at Maeve, she looks at the exit knowing there’s a passerby in the hall cursing at the out of service sign.

“Please tell me you haven’t killed anybody tonight.”

Homelander shook his head biting his lip as Tek sped up his tongue, lowering it until he was suckling on the sensitive perineum, biting it, and kissing it, not stopping as he stared at Maeve briefly, not hiding his annoyance.

Back then she was the one next to him in the magazines… always running after her… she was the one that was the most special, she was the one that understood him the best, who suited him best… horseshit, he told himself.

“Only 1 person, my bad.” Tek Knight kisses his ass standing up, pulling his pants with one hand and carrying the glass with the other– I quit.” He grumbled.

Coming into the champagne glass, looking at his load as it mixed with some bubbly before leaving it on the sink.

He took to the basin after taking a handful of paper towels, washing his hands without care while soaking the towels.

“Hey…” Homelander took his shoulder.

“What?”

“You can’t just quit!?”

“I can’t stand her.” His smile is still so charming as he speaks, looking down as the washes off the sticky champagne stains off his groin– go! be a tattle-tell if you like Maeve… nobody its gonna fucking believe you.”

“Don’t be like that… Maeve isn’t going to do such thing… right, Maeve?”

“Don’t care. You can have him now if you want, Ms. Cockblocker.”

Before Meave could answer back, she was met with an accusatory finger on her face, Tek zipped his pants after doing half the job, just clean enough that he could survive whatever was left ot the afterparty but Homelander wouldn’t let him leave, his hand pulling on his elbow keeping him firmly in his presence.

“Ignore her… we always did love an audience.” He turned to Maeve– you stay right there and keep watch, understand?” He growled, eyes flickering red towards her direction.

“What do you want anyways?” He said still miffed but relaxing around Homelander’s grip.

“Just making sure you two weren’t going to be covered in blood… dunno if you know this Knight but there’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yeah right. You just wanted to ruin my fun… like you always do.”

“You think I want your se–

“Both of you shut up! Maeve learn to mind your own business and you don’t antagonize her… she’s here because she wants to watch that’s why! She has what three bottles in her already!”

“Two and a half… fuck you drink a lot of merlot.” He seemed disgusted at the choice– please tell me you had the moscato, it was simply refreshing!”

“I don’t like moscato.” she chuckles– and am not drunk, I'm tipsy.” she laughs with a sleepy smile.

“You’re just another pervert who wants to see his ex get fucked in the ass by his other ex... so be quiet and enjoy the show."

She tried to wipe that shit eating grin on her face.

“Forget about her and just think of me… I want you… I won… so my price is you sucking me off…” He took his face stroking his neck, forcing him to look directly at him– Robert…”

“You didn’t win. I quit. That means the price is null…” both looked so needy, Robert's darkened eyes almost pleading him to make him stay where his lips couldn't.– suck me off first… please, baby… I’m upset.”

“No, you sore loser…”

“You’re so cruel.” He moped.

Homelander rolled his eyes taking the glass before skulking the contents, Robert got hard immediately, watching Homelander lick the rim clean before forcing him into a salty sweet kiss.

Cum frothing from the friction.

They danced their way back into the cubicle, grinning as the toilet lid squeaked under his weight, Homelander threw his boots and his tights off with enviable effortlessness giving Mr. Vernon plenty to take a hold off, he squeezed his thin legs, savoring the velvety texture, his cock hard and leaking, Tek took it giving it a few pumps, licking his taste off lips with anticipation, his mind solely focused on John, Maeve ceased to exist even if the stench of merlot didn’t, he only wanted this.

“Thanks baby.”

“Only because you’re cute, John.”

Throwing his head back as the other man took his manhood, slurping and swallowing, each stroke followed by his mouth, Homelander placing his hand firmly on his neck pushing him further, he could feel him chuckle against his length.

Homelander came hard and embarassingly quick, whimpering as he buckled his hips.

But Robert was glad regardless.

Tek didn’t stop moving his lips, wanting him to grind his teeth some more, he let it out with a wet pop, gasping with a satisfied smile, kissing his legs and thighs wishing to leave hickeys and burns.

“You swallowed.” He sounded so disappointed it touched the other’s heartstrings with guilt.

“My turn.”

Tek pushed him back, standing up weakly, leaning to his side to take the second glass of champagne he had left on the floor before.

“Lick it.”

Homelander obliged, licking the edge creasing his nose as the fizz got on his nostrils.

Maeve grimace was short lived, Homelander hand tugged on that pesky belt, pulling him out once more, stroking him roughly, as his tongue parted his lover’s needless toy.

Maeve sat not minding if her skirt got damp, biting her lips as she saw the blonde get on his knees.

Transfixed as she watched his head bobbed, clenching her legs as the man sung loudly, they spoke with only looks, whispering to each other, Robert encouraging him, to look past the flavor, Homelander groaned, displeased but he would cooed him, coaxed him to keep going, coaxing gently to take it deeper, playing with his hair as the man flat tongue made him see the runnign waters of the river styx, rutting his hips into his throat as he saw death welcoming him.

Maeve hand stroked her clit, taking short breath as she tried to not make a sound, her pussy soaking her fingers as she traveled a little further, wanting to fill herself with anything but not wanting to make a show for the bastards either.

Maeve had to look away, she had peeked into something forbidden. It seems for Homelander had leaped into his mouth, kissing him, burning him, Tek was seeing stars, the mixture of salt and french sweetness coating his tongue.

Craning his back as the other man’s weight pulled him down– he saw his John from all those years ago, how nervous his hand was, cupping his cheek, searching for cues to deepen their kiss, to know Robert had wanted him just as much as he had.

He always had.

Fame, fortune and the admiration of many didn’t compare to being Homelander’s.

He wished he hadn’t been greedy.

He wished he had been happy to just be the mistress.

He wished he hadn’t been the clever one that turned to that once naive boy and told him that it could never be.

He had to cut him out of him like he was cancer.

No matter how much he wanted him, no matter how much it hurt to see him running after that redhead.

He looked up to catch her, smelling her arousal and regret.

“Come to my loft… John… just for tonite…” he susurrated– I want to be yours…”

Homelander smiled, half lid eyes and bruised lips gave him a soft yes.

Maeve ran out the bathroom wanting to find something to wash away the confused feeling in her stomach, thinking of that cute publicist that had been eyeing her all night.

Robert’s ear followed her heels, as John kissed him while fixing himself doing just enough of a good job that cameras wouldn’t notice how disheveled he was, he had done a good job considering he hadn’t stopped kissing his lover for most of the ordeal.

“I’ll be a good boy and get the bath ready for when you get home, Tek.”

“I’ll get the condoms on my way home then.”

“Why? We are gonna run out of them anyhoo” he growled into him, licking Tek's lower lip, gnawing on him until a scarlet drop fell on his tongue– see ya in a jiffy, Robert.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I’ll go first.”

Homelander rolled his eyes, kissing him goodbye for the time being.

Ignoring the crowds as they both left to attend more pressing matters.

Glad to meet again as if they were just those hopeful stupid kids yet again.

#homelander #tek knight #homelander fanfiction #tek knight fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #my fic tag #personal #cozy corner kinktober #homelader x tek knight #homeknight?#Hometek?#TekHome?#not proofread sorry #I am esl sorry for grammar #hometek #holelander

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digitalbath1988 · 7 months

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Day 1: Praise

TW: cum shot, praise, pleading, jerk off, true love.

This is based off my OC Calla/Sharpshot ❤️

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?” Her voice rang out clear as a bell in the conference room.

Homelander frowned at Calla. “No.”

More employee misconduct, a burning desire to tear the corrupt party in half. The only thing stopping him was her in the doorway, pencil skirt tight around her hips, two Vought branded pens securing her hair, a pleading look on her face. He got up, intending to brush past her and confront the thief.

“Come on, I know you can be so good.” She said in his ear, brushing a strand of hair back as she did. “Be nice, just for me?” Her hands gave the game away, trembling like leaves. Even after so many years together. He could overlook it when he saw all the love in her eyes.

“Don’t- it’s not worth it, Calla. They’re fucking scum. Why do you care?” He said, pretending to be a bit more exasperated than he really was. Curious about where this was going.

“Sit back down and I’ll tell you.” She grinned as he did. “Because you’re the good guy. Everyone wants you to be the good guy.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s because I am the good guy. Honey.” He looked up at her, the understanding between the both of them not faltering.

“You know what I mean. Come on, sure, he stole some money. We’ll sue his pants off. And hey, even if he’s not good for it, what’s $50k to Vought, huh?” She rubbed his shoulders as she attempted to work magic. Magic he happened to be very amenable to at the moment, if she pressed all the right buttons. So far she was setting the stage beautifully.

“He’ll have a worse life in prison, right?” He asked as she worked the knots in his shoulders as best as she could- of course, not nearly strong enough. But it was the thought that counted.

“Yeah, he’ll suffer. And his life will suck once he’s out.” Her hands moved lower, coming to rest on his upper thighs, triggering an involuntary little noise from his throat. “You’re so good for doing this, you know. My wonderful husband.”

Those clever hands unclasped his belt and got to work, as she continued filling his ears with praise. He couldn’t remain in the chair, his hips jutted up to meet her, he needed more and more of the praise and sweetness and especially the warmth of her spit wetted palms on his shaft.

Calla managed to keep him from levitating- much- with a smile and a gentle push back towards the seat. “Thank you for doing this for me- for us. Protecting our image. I really appreciate it. Sweetheart. You know I love you more than anything, right?”

He groaned out an affirmation, almost incapable of speech as she jerked him off so effectively. Totally focused on the visual of her double fisting his shaft. The orgasm hit him hard with another wave of praise and carefully applied pressure, thick ropes of his own cum ending up all over the front of his suit.

Calla grabbed a Lysol wipe with motherly efficiency. “I’m so glad we had this talk.”

#homelander #homelander smut #cozy corner kinktober

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blaacknoir · 7 months

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My first @cozycornerkinktober fic is a revamp of an old one.

98% by catap

The Homelander celebrates his ratings after his very public meltdown on national TV. His counterpart gives him a warning about his behavior… but but such good ratings deserve a reward too, don't they?

Prompts: 1. Praise kink 4. Overstimulation 16. Begging Bonus prompts: • Aftercare • Fantasy Bonus additional prompts, because apparently the kind of kinky I write isn't whatever weird shit y'all are into (affectionate): • Mirrors (how is that not on here!) • Multiple orgasms • Selfcest (kind of) • I swear I don't have a kink for this but it always shows up when I write about supes having sex • Also Ashley is there

#my writing #homelander #the boys #cozy corner kinktober #SERIOUSLY HOW IS MIRRORS NOT ON YOUR LIST 😭#mirrorlander #homecest

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blindmagdalena · 7 months

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Pocket Rocket ( Homelander x Madelyn )

18+ 1.9k micro/macro, external only, mild objectification, grinding, under clothing play, uh... sexy shenanigans with super powers. written for @cozycornerkinktober!

After Vought develops a shrinking serum, they decide to test it on their resident lab rat. Homelander takes surprisingly well to being 4 inches tall, especially when it comes to spending time with his favorite manager.

set pre s1. i... have nothing to say for myself lmao this is my first time writing anything like this, so be kind to me. thank you @xieyaohuan and @deliciouskeys for your enthusiastic encouragement. 🖤

It started off innocently enough.

By utilizing the biological response that the hero Termite’s DNA has to Compound V, Vought scientists are able to distill a potent serum that temporarily shrinks any hero to Termite’s infamous size. The results vary from hero to hero, but generally speaking, those with higher concentrations of Compound V in their system fare the best.

Naturally, Homelander is the perfect candidate for the continued trials. The strategic potential this offers them, in combination with his other powers, is undeniable. He could be anywhere at any time, practically invisible.

The one perk Madelyn didn’t anticipate was how intensely docile it would make the supe.

Even now as she works, he lays sprawled out in her upturned palm, fitted in a tiny replica of his suit. He had insisted the details be perfect, all the way down to his boots. She has to admit, it’s rather charming.

The serum doesn’t reduce him to quite the size Termite is able to accomplish. He’s about four inches tall, spanning the base of her middle finger to the bottom of her palm. Due to the sheer volume of V in his system, depending on how high of a dosage he takes, the solution can last as long as eight hours without any side effects. He’s been keen to make very good use of the time he has with it, eager to test it whenever the matter arises.

As for Madelyn, she doesn’t mind one bit. Not only does it allow her to keep an eye on him, it keeps him quiet and perfectly manageable. He rolls over in her palm, cushioning his head on his arm, and she can see in her peripheral vision that he’s smiling up at her. When she glances down, he closes his eyes like he’s sleeping.

Cute.

Her phone rings, and instead of rolling him onto the desk or awkwardly reaching across herself to answer it, she tugs open the breast pocket of her button-up and gently plops him inside it. She can feel him squirm a bit, but she knows he can fly out at any time if he wants to. However, it quickly becomes apparent that he isn’t squirming at all. He’s just making himself comfortable.

Taking her call, Madelyn does her best to ignore the sudden dim pulse stirring between her thighs.

From that point on, it’s a gradual escalation that, frankly, she should have seen coming.

He becomes obsessed with situating himself in her pockets, be they pants, skirt, or shirt. Any time he experiences so much as a modicum of stress, he seizes it as an opportunity to be tiny and close to her, seeking comfort in the same ways he always has, but with the added benefit of not pestering Madelyn when she has important matters to tend to. Besides, this little ritual of theirs has significantly improved his temperament.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s begun to enjoy it herself.

When the day comes that he storms into her office, pitching some kind of fit that a news station has run a cutting exposé on one of his recent heroic endeavors–citing a wealth of unnecessary collateral damage that she had already thoroughly reprimanded him for–she’s quick to reach for the stash of serums she now keeps in a small fridge behind her desk.

It isn’t until he’s nestled contentedly in the circle of her fingers that she realizes she doesn’t have pockets in this outfit.

With a thoughtful click of her tongue, she makes a choice and partially unbuttons her blouse. “Be good,” she tells him, and sets him on the curve of her breast, tucking him into just the top of her bra. She’s certain that she’s never seen him so delighted, nor has she ever felt him take so long to get comfortable.

The pulse between her legs has grown to a steady throb, and she can no longer deny that this is almost as much for her as it is for him.

The cup of her bra immediately becomes his new favorite spot. He’s even less conspicuous there than he’d been in her breast pocket, and she doesn’t have to worry as much about someone taking note of him as she goes about her work day. They’ve both begun to look forward to these days, to the point where Madelyn will often shuffle his schedule around in order to ensure he has at least one full day free of duty.

The dam doesn’t truly break until one such day she feels him shuffle down lower, squirming more than usual, followed by a pleasant little pinch that makes her whole body jolt. “What are you doing in there?” She asks with a furrow of her brows, hooking her fingers delicately over her blouse and bra, peering inside.

She finds Homelander pressed snugly between her bra and her breast, cupping her nipple between his hands, face pressed into it. She realizes that his squirming was him grinding against her. He turns his head to look sheepishly up at her, muttering something she can’t hear due to his size. He’s flushed thoroughly pink, looking like he expects to be reprimanded. She swallows thickly, the aching throb of her clit doubling at the needy sight of him tucked in against her.

Breathing a touch shallower, she gives him the barest hint of a nod and covers him back up, cupping her breast instead, feeling him in her palm through the layers of her shirt. He starts thrusting again, grinding against her soft skin, squeezing and nuzzling at her nipple with more vigor now. She shivers, holding him tight to her chest while she deftly unbuttons her skirt with her other hand, slipping her fingers into her underwear.

She fingers herself to the feel of him writhing against her until she comes. Neither of them speak of it, nor his tiny soiled suit.

After that, they stop bothering with the tiny suit altogether during these times. Seems foolish to keep making a mess of it. Besides, she takes (perhaps too much) pleasure in stripping him of each piece, holding him delicately in her hand as she pinches his gloves between her middle finger and thumb, sliding it off and setting each one to the side. He’s entirely malleable as she does it, watching her with parted lips and heavily lidded, love drunk eyes.

It’s been a busy few weeks since they were able to do this, and her skin is already prickling with anticipation. She’s wearing a dress today, and as per usual, she slips him into the cup of her bra to get comfortable as he pleases.

She’s worked up enough that she has to lay back while he gets settled, closing her eyes to enjoy the moment. Her heart is already beating in her clit, and he’s taking longer than usual to establish himself. “Homelander,” she warns, giving him a light pat through her shirt. “Settle down.”

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he pulls himself out entirely, popping up from the neckline of her dress. He swings his arm, beckoning her, and she picks him up, bringing him close to her ear once she realizes he wants to speak.

“I can hear you throbbing in your underwear, Madelyn,” he says, voice thoroughly addled with his own lust. “Why don’t you stick me where you really want me?”

Drawing her hand away, she shoots him a critical look. “You think you’ve earned that?”

He nods enthusiastically, looking equal parts convinced of it and hopeful that she is as well.

She supposes that he has been particularly well-behaved as of late. Is this why? Has he been listening to her arousal all this time, plotting the day he would be pressed against the heat of it? She can’t deny that she’s thought about it, too; wondered if he would feel anything like the vibrator she had pressed to her clit while she was thinking about it.

Slowly, with him sitting naked and eager in the palm of her hand, his cock full and hard, she stands up. He’s starting to look nervous, clearly beginning to think he’s overstepped. She waits until he looks just about ready to apologize or burst into tears—or both, frankly—before she hooks her fingers beneath the hem of her dress and slides it up her thigh.

“Be good,” she tells him, though it's a significantly more salacious demand than the first time she said it in this context.

With that, she closes her fingers around him and slips him into her underwear, releasing him into the narrow space between her cotton panties and her pulsing cunt.

A shiver rolls up her spine. She’s immediately hyper aware of him moving, adjusting until he finds a comfortable way to align against her. Her heart is racing, and she waits until he stops moving before she sits down.

Unlike when he’s tucked into her bra, she’s unable to think of anything other than the feel of him, especially once she’s sitting. She swears she can feel every single one of his movements, which feel more intentional than ever. It’s not as though she’ll crush or smother him; they tested him, and he’s just as durable as he is at his full size.

He’s not settling like he usually does, either. He hasn’t stopped squirming since she sat down. Instead of chiding him, however, she slips her hand between her thighs and finds his small body with her fingers, letting out a shuddering sigh when she feels him. He isn’t just squirming, he’s thrusting against her, using his unnatural strength to his utmost benefit, writhing against her clit, grinding, using his arms, anything he can, and it feels fucking amazing.

Madelyn moans outright, bracing her other hand against the edge of it in a white-knuckle grip. He’s absolutely relentless, more so than he ever was in her shirt, and it’s everything she imagined it would be and more. The strength he possesses is unreal, and even as small as he is, she feels it in his every movement, how his body practically thrums with it.

She comes with a stifled cry while bent over her desk, every harsh breath sending her documents a little further askew. Only then does he finally stop moving, but throughout her aftershocks she can still feel the inhuman buzz of his body.

Leaning back, she gingerly lifts the waistband of her panties and peers inside, spotting Homelander’s small body. He’s slumped back against her wet panties, glistening and utterly pussy drunk. He offers her a broad, dazed smile.

“Are you alright?” She asks. She’s a little breathless, but she maintains her composed tone of authority well.

He nods, looking positively delirious with pleasure and completely unharmed. She can already tell that he’s come, too, even if she can’t feel the mess of it amongst her own.

“Good,” she says, the word dripping with satisfaction. “You can stay there, then.”

With that, she lets go of her waistband and adjusts her dress back down, running her fingers through her hair while she resettles herself. She leaves him there for the rest of the day, an arrangement that they both wind up being more than content with.

Once settled, he behaves perfectly well for her. Any time she decides she needs a little break from work, all she has to do is rock her hips, and he starts right back up until she’s satisfied once again.

#cozy corner kinktober #homewell #homelander x madelyn stillwell #microphilia #my writing #smut #i might have finished this drunk LMAO #anyways i. don't know what i've done here. but i saw the kink and could NOT stop thinking about these two!

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rafeysbafey · 7 months

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✮ 9. bed sharing — ethan landry MDNI

summary. sharing a bed with ethan turns into something more

warnings. dick!ethan (he gets better ^o^), enemies to lovers type beat, smut, language, riding

word count. 1.1k

a/n. def got carried away, so i think i rushed at the end oops lol. also this is going to be put on my regular masterlist as well as my kinktober list because it’s so damn long lmao

“what do you mean i have to share a room with ethan?!” you asked, completely flabbergasted at this sudden information.

anika and mindy had only booked three rooms when the group decided to go on a trip together. sam and tara sharing the second room while you and ethan share the other.

chad was sick the day before everyone was supposed to leave so mindy just decided to cram you and ethan together.

“im sorry, babe,” she said, frown on her face as she tried spewing out ideas to make it better.

“he’s going to hate this,” you pointed out, looking past her to see where he was, “he’s going to hate me.”

“well, more than he already does,” you added under your breath.

you and ethan had a…rocky relationship, to put it nicely.

he absolutely hated you. with the mean side comments and the not so subtle shoves he would give you when in passing.

it hurt because you actually liked ethan, when joining the group you actually found him cute.

you would see the way he conversed with others, the nerdy, kind ethan he would be in front of the group.

but with you it was different, for whatever godforsaken reason.

“ethan’s not going to hate you,” anika chimed in, giving you a look filled with pity as you sighed in annoyance.

“ethan’s not going to hate who?” a voice asked from around the corner, the devil himself making his way round before stopping a few feet away from you guys.

his eyes immediately fell on you, a sour look taking over his face as he narrowed his brows at you.

not being able to hold his gaze, you looked at the ground with a huff.

“there was a mix up apparently,” you mumbled, looking at your feet as you forced out the next words.

“we’re sharing a room.”

his mouth went agap and a certain glint flashed in his eyes, but you weren’t aware since you were looking down.

“no way, id rather rip my hair out one by one than share a room with her.”

“first off, fuck you,” you spat, your head shooting up as you glared at him, “second, i told you,” you turned towards the girls.

“guys give it one night! then we’ll figure something out. right now it’s late,” mindy sighed, giving attention to how late it had already gotten.

“sam and tara already went up, let’s go.”

the room was small and…cozy, to put it nicely.

and to make things worse, there was only one bed.

“im taking the bed,” ethan announced, tossing his suitcase on the mattress before kicking off his shoes.

“where am i supposed to sleep?!” you asked, watching as he narrowed his eyes toward you with a chuckle.

“on the floor? outside? i couldn’t care less.”

“dick,” you muttered.

“what did you say, brat?”

“just forget it,” you scoffed, shoving past him and heading into the bathroom.

after brushing your teeth and taking off your makeup, you changed into your pajamas and left the bathroom.

the lights were already off, the soft glow from the moon outside shining through the room.

you could see ethan sprawled out on the bed, resting comfortably on the cushioned mattress.

walking over to him, you shoved his side, almost pushing him off as he sat up abruptly.

“what?” he hissed, shooting you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes.

“at least give me a pillow.”

“so fucking needy,” he mumbled before grabbing an extra one and tossing it towards you.

you didn't know how long you were awake for, tossing and turning, your body aching from the roughness of the floor.

"god, could you stop being so loud?" ethan's sudden voice boomed through the silence.

"says the one who has the bed," you spat back.

before you could process what was happening next, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist and hoisting you up on the bed.

"there," he mumbled, "now stop complaining."

it was a tight fit, the bed was so small it was probably a twin.

you could feel your back pressed against ethan's chest, his hands uncomfortably resting by his sides because if not there, they would have to rest on your hips.

"y'know how angry you make me?" he suddenly whispered, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

"what?" you asked, afraid of what he'd say next.

"how angry you make me," he repeats before adding, "how stuck up you act and think you're better than everyone else."

you furrowed your brows together as you forced yourself to flip over, eyes squinting in the dark to try and read his expression.

"how do i act stuck up? i've done nothing to you," you defend, confusion laced in your voice.

"that's the point. you've never given me a chance."

flabbergasted, you scoff in annoyance, "because you're so mean to me!"

it was silent for a second, the air thick and quiet as ethan tried mustering up words.

"so if i wasn't—wasn't mean, i would have a chance?"

"a chance with me? ethan what are you talking about," you were genuinely confused.

ethan was always mean to you, making remarks about what you wore or how you did your hair, shoving past you when needing to get something, and most importantly sending jabs about how 'ugly' you were.

"i'm in love with you, god damnit."

before you could ask why, why he was in love with you if his actions and words spoke different, you felt his lips clash into yours.

you didn’t know how to react, being completely off guard as he quickly pulled away.

“fuck- im sorry, i-i should have asked i-”

you didn’t let him finish as you leaned back in, kissing him this time gently as he melted into your touch.

you rolled on top of him, straddling his waist as you intertwined your hands together, squeezing ever so slightly.

“you’re so hot,” ethan rasped out, one hand leaving yours to cup your waist as you slowly started to move against him, grinding down on his hardening cock.

“fuck, y/n.”

“want me to ride you?” you asked, innocence laced in your voice as you batted your eyelashes down at him, the moonlight hitting your face perfectly.

ethan could have came in his pants right there, the boy quickly nodding as you lifted yourself up to pull down his sweatpants, his boxers following after.

his cock slapped against his lower abdomen as he let out a sigh of relief, his tip an angry red as you stared in astonishment.

he was big.

“so pretty,” you mumbled, leaning down to kiss his tip as he hissed ever so slightly at the feeling, your pillowy lips sending vibrations through his body.

you quickly took off your pj shorts before doing the same with your underwear, tossing them somewhere random in the room without a care.

leaning down to connect your lips with his, you allowed yourself to sink onto his length, a small cry falling from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut.

‘fuck this hurts.’ you thought to yourself, the feeling of ethan’s hand cupping the side of your face causing a warm feeling to go down your spine.

“doing so good f’me,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you leaned into his touch.

after what felt like forever, you started to move, the both of you sighing in relief at the friction you two were making.

“just like that, fuck-“ he groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he held both sides of your hips with his hands, helping you bounce on top of him.

“so good, eth” you cried, “so so good.”

you felt your legs tremble as you tried your best to be consistent, ethan noticing as he took hold of the small of your back and leaned you into him.

you rested against his chest, hand wrapped around his torso as he started fucking up into you, small moans leaving your mouth.

“you’re so pretty, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, his hand still on the small of your back as the other cupped the back of your head, “so so pretty. all for me.”

“all for you,” you rambled, nodding in agreement as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach form.

“bout to cum, please let me cum,” you begged, snuggling your face deeper into his neck as he cooed you softly.

“don’t need to beg, baby.”

with that, you let yourself release on him, your body stiffening before falling back into him, jolts traveling through your thighs.

ethan followed quickly after, groaning lowly in your ear as he held your hips still, allowing him to dump himself in your used hole.

“so perfect, fuck,” he moaned before letting out a sigh, his hand now stroking the back of your head.

using all the strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to face him, a tired look on your face as you gave him a small smile.

“still hate me?” you mumbled, slightly teasing him but not really. you did believe he hated you, maybe not right at this moment, but things could be different in the morning.

“never hated you,” he whispered, frown on his lips as he pushed the lose strands of hair away from your face.

“im a jerk,” he added.

“a cute jerk,” you giggled softly, causing him to smile just a little—knowing you weren’t being as serious as he thought you would.

“but really, it hurts when you treat me the way you do.”

“i know, and im sorry for everything,” he said, pure sadness in his voice as he leaned into you, forehead meeting yours.

“i think i love you.”

“id hope so,” you snorted, pecking his lips softly before adding, “i mean your dick is in me.”

“can’t you be serious?” he joked.

“fine, i love you too.”

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#ethan landry fluff #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot

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sehtoast · 6 months

Text

Pocket Pal (tiny!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 2k | tiny!Homelander, micro/macro, oral sex, he gets wild with it | Fic Directory

These stupid fucking super villains and their stupid fucking gimmicks!

Homelander is the strongest man in the world, and now? Now he’s lost inside of his own suit, tangled up somewhere between padding and fabric that won’t let even a smidge of light filter through.

It’s the sound of squeaky complaints that helps Ben figure out which sleeve he’s caught in.

The web-head arrived just as it happened. Some new villain running around calling herself Minimizer managed to pull a fast one on Homelander, completely shrinking his body.

“I’m going to ram through her fucking skull!” He shrieks, standing stark naked in Ben’s palm. His eyes burn with rage, and his fury increases tenfold when Benjamin giggles.

“Oh man,” the bug chuckles. He marvels at Homelander’s size. He runs roughly the length from the heel of Ben’s hand to the tip of his middle finger– maybe just a bit more. “You’re so tiny…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Homelander bellows, though his voice rings higher to the larger world. “It’s not fucking funny!”

Ben shakes his head, biting back a smile.

“Benjamin, I swear to fucking Christ!”

This was horrible. There was a crowd forming, and he’d fear for his real body being on every screen in the world if not for the way Ben shielded him with cupped hands. Everyone’s getting pictures and videos of his suit piled in the street, of Spidey crouched down, speaking to something in his hands. Any fucking idiot could put two and two together, and now the world will know he’s weak.

Homelander’s fury quells the slightest bit when Benjamin ruffles his hair with his thumb.

“Alright, alright,” Ben relents. He brings his hands to the neckline of his suit, allowing Homelander to crawl inside for the ride. “Look, we’ll get back home and see what the verdict on this is, yeah?”

He grumbles, but agrees. Minimizer had run off anyway, and this was only drawing out the public spectacle. Homelander watches Ben gather his suit and boots, and they take off together.

Dr. Edi, head of the medical ward, checks him over. She finds no humor in his condition, but reassures the both of them that Vought’s records indicate Minimizer’s powers are a temporary effect. Most of her victims are back to normal within five or so days, and all they had to do was wait it out.

There are no reasonable clothes that fit his tiny form, and his eyes burn a fierce red when Ben mentions those Barbie Ken dolls having stuff that might work. In the end, they both realize it’s easier if he just runs around naked.

Homelander’s entire schedule is cleared for his ‘recovery.’ Ben’s as well, especially once Homelander threatened to crawl inside Ashley’s head and piss on her brain if she didn’t free the web-head’s time.

For the duration of his recovery, Homelander rides around on either Ben’s head or shoulder wherever they go. And sure, he can fly, but he finds this much more enjoyable. It’s kind of fun seeing the world from Ben’s point of view, and he likes that he can throw himself entirely on top of his little spider and be held from head to toe. Ben has always doted on him, but he does so especially now that he’s tiny.

Homelander hangs on to Ben’s hair as the web-head makes them dinner. It’s the first time in his life he’s given a shit about cooking, and it’s almost hypnotizing to watch Ben throw everything together and make something out of nothing.

Benjamin makes him a special dish. All of his food is sliced and diced just enough to be workable for his little mouth. Sure, he doesn’t have to eat, but Ben always insists he does anyway. Now was no different, and it stirred something warm in Homelander’s angry little heart to know Ben cared enough to adapt everything for him.

They eat and conversate as if nothing is different. At the end, Homelander floats up to take his spot on Ben’s shoulder, leaning and nuzzling against the side of his neck. Ben thumbs at his tiny shoulder before seeing to the clean up.

The pair had to find a method for Homelander to take showers. Sure, he was tiny, but that didn’t mean he was going to shirk his strict hygiene routines. Flying under the stream of pelting water took more effort than it was worth, and it was far easier to let Ben hold him throughout the process. Scented products became a hell far worse than ever before, and Ben had to use only the special unscented soaps Homelander typically used on himself.

It took a whole debacle to realize Homelander was better off scooping shower product out of Ben’s palm instead of attempting a pea sized squeeze of product.

“Well, you’re definitely clean,” Ben had told him the first time they tried to pour soap into his little hands. Homelander had to be rinsed under the water after the body wash flowed too fast and drenched him. He griped about how humiliating the ordeal was for the rest of the night. If nothing else, at least Ben giving him a fully body massage as he lathered him with his thumbs was near fucking orgasmic.

Ben found that the best solution for drying Homelander after showers was to simply use a blow dryer. Initially, the two tried to just use a washcloth, but it was like attempting to dry off with a king sized blanket. Plus, the sight of Homelander pretending he wasn’t shivering from the cold was pitiful, so Ben picked the next best thing.

He liked it, too. Sitting under the current of warm air, not even caring how messed up his hair got. It felt so fucking nice to just lay back in Ben’s palm and let himself be spoiled endlessly. Lifting his legs so that the air could hit every little crevice on his body, chuckling at Ben’s own laughter at the act.

“I’m starting to think you like being small,” Ben teases as he fans the dryer back and forth.

“Maybe I just like when you spoil me.” Homelander shouts over the whir of the dryer. “Should do it more often. Like, way more often.”

He finds he enjoys sleeping curled up in Ben’s palm at night. It’s warm, and he can hug a finger or two if he’s feeling inclined. Of course, this opens the door for mischief.

It wasn’t a surprise for Ben when he woke to find Homelander humping against his middle finger. In fact, this was exactly what he expected. Wasn’t often Homelander could go a night without sex, and Ben imagined it would be no different now.

Homelander’s little groans were the cutest. They still carried that faint squeakiness that his tiny voice had, and he was certainly unashamed to let them ring free.

“Havin’ fun?” Ben asks with a sleepy smirk. “Can’t believe you got a new boyfriend already.”

“Veeery funny. Homelander leans his head back to stare at his little spider. “I dunno if he’s a keeper, though. Not a single hole on this guy to fuck.”

That earns him a sweet giggle from Ben.

“Lay back, then.” Ben instructs. He watches Homelander position himself just right, then juts out the tip of his tongue to ghost it from sack to tip. He hears Homelander hiss. “Too much?”

Homelander shakes his head and shivers. “More…”

Ben swipes his tongue a second time, laving over him with more pressure. He licks back and forth, feeling Homelander writhe beneath his tongue. It’s messy, and probably looks absolutely ridiculous, but John sings his pleasure louder than in any blowjob in the past.

“O-Oh, fuck!” He gasps, little hips thrusting up against the wet heat. “Mmph, god, so good! D-Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–” He cries out harshly as he spills, body locking tight and hot as each pulse of pleasure ripples through him. “Don’t s-stop!” He babbles over and over again, thrusting as little spurts of come coat his lower body and Ben’s tongue until he simply lays there limp.

After that night, Ben’s tongue became his favorite thing in the world. Whether that meant his little spider would curl it up into a hole for him to fuck or just simply let him straddle and grind on it, he fucking loved it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to float up and wedge between Ben’s lips, lower body trapped inside paradise itself as he was licked to completion over and over again until Ben’s jaw would hurt.

Even better than that was the time he discovered he could return the favor. It wasn’t hard to slink down Ben’s sleeping body and find just what he was looking for. He embraced Ben’s clit, licking the head of it on one side while rubbing his palm over the other. He felt every throb, heard every little clench around his love’s gathering arousal as he worked. Once that nub was finally nice and hard, he made his way inside Benjamin’s cunt.

What a gift it was to be able to writhe around in his slick, touching his walls, licking them, grinding against them. He was snug inside and used his flight powers to fuck his body in and out of the warm canal. Each time, he rubbed his palms flat against Ben’s sweet spot.

He could hear Ben groaning and could tell he was beginning to squirm in his sleep. He planned to finish the job before the sunlight could wake Ben first. Homelander increased his pace, fucking back and forth, body utterly drenched in arousal. The glide of his body against Ben’s walls stimulated him, and he found himself coming hard when Benjamin’s cunt finally pulsed around him, squeezing him so deliciously.

A hand was there to greet him when he slipped free, lifting him like a naughty kitten to be scolded for such mischief.

Though he actually received praise instead, much to his satisfaction.

By the end of the fifth day, he was back to being upset about his stature. It must have been at least every hour that he–

“It should have fucking worn off by now!” He says with wide eyes. “What if I’m stuck like this? Jesus Christ, what if I’m like this for the rest of my life!?”

Ben shushes him, thumbing softly at the top of his head. “Worrying is just going to make it worse, Johnny.” He coos sweetly. “I’m sure things like this are gonna be case by case, y’know?”

“Bring me back to the med wing,” he orders. “She has to fix this or–”

“She can’t, babe. Remember?” Ben settles his open hand behind where Homelander sits on his chest, wordlessly offering for him to lean back. “It’s gonna have to happen naturally, okay? She said it’s always been temporary.”

“D’you have any idea how fucking humiliating this is?” He seethes.

“I mean…” Ben arches a brow. “Kinda? I guess?”

“No,” he points accusingly, “you don’t. So stop acting like this is nothing to worry about!”

Ben merely lets him continue on his tirade as they lay on the couch together. Sometimes Homelander just needs to have a tantrum, and this is no different. The TV fills the spaces between his rants until he simmers down and sits grumpily with his arms crossed.

He grumbles, but eventually drags Ben’s hand to lay overtop of him for warmth.

They end up sleeping there for the night, and it’s peaceful until, out of nowhere, Benjamin is roused from his rest by a sudden pressure on his body. His eyes open in shock, ready to deal with an attack, only to be met with relief.

There, sleeping peacefully, is John, full sized and back to normal. He seems to have not even noticed the shift in his sleep, but is certainly elated when Ben wakes him.

“Finally!” Homelander grins, still stark naked and proud as a peacock. “Now,” he says, grasping Ben’s hand, leading him toward the bedroom. “We got some lost time to make up for, and you deserve a little something for helping me out.”

Much as he was thrilled to see John back in good spirits, Ben admittedly was going to miss his pocket pal.

Ah, well. Minimizer’s still out there, right?

Who’s to say there’s never gonna be a next time?

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander smut #homelander fanfiction #cozy corner kinktober #antony starr #the boys #the benlander agenda

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xieyaohuan · 7 months

Text

A New Discovery (Butchlander)

Cozy corner kinktober prompts: overstimulation; kink of choice: tickling

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst for a second and a half, but mostly fluff!

“What the fuck was that?”

William is pushing himself up from the floor, stupefied. Then he looks up at the ceiling, and Homelander’s eyes automatically follow his gaze.

“I- I don’t know,” is all the supe manages. That’s the truth. One moment, he and William were making out on William’s bed (yes, Homelander insisted on buying him a proper bed frame), and the next, he sent William flying half the way across the room.

There’s a hole in the ceiling right above Homelander’s head, small embers raining down on him, settling on the sheets and on his bare skin. The hole doesn’t go all the way to the next floor, he notices with relief.

It’s at best a small relief though.

He’s not lost control of his lasers in well over ten years. Certainly not badly enough to cause real damage. Burning holes into walls, and — fuck. William. “Did I… did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

“Nah. All peachy.” William gets up, dusts himself off and climbs back up on the mattress to inspect the damage from up close. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers. If the circumstances were any different, Homelander would probably enjoy the view. “That V shite really keeping its promises. Not a scratch on my body, love.”

Even when William pretends to be all sarcastic about the pet name, there’s usually some affection. Or so Homelander likes to tell himself. This time though, he’s not so sure.

The frown on William’s face is spreading as he’s prodding the hole in the ceiling, blinking away any ash and debris falling into his eyes.

Homelander grabs William’s blanket and wraps it around himself.

In the lab, this kind of loss of control would have meant no interactions with staff except food trays shoved angrily into his cell three times per day for at least a week. Vought would still make him practice on a target of course, but nobody was allowed to speak with him or even look at him. It was like Homelander didn’t exist. You have to understand, John, Vogelbaum would say later, we just can’t afford for you to be sloppy. We need you to have full control of your powers.

William is still muttering curses.

Frankly, Homelander didn’t expect he’d be so attached to this decrepit apartment. “I’ll pay to have the ceiling fixed,” he says quickly, realizing the mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“I don’t want your fucking money,” William snaps without turning his head to look at Homelander. “Why do you people always think money’s gonna fix everything? Why do you-”

He stops mid-sentence, but Homelander knows how it was going to end: something about supes being careless, ruining people’s lives, because they know Vought will sweep in to offer a check. He’s heard these words so many times out of William’s mouth. He can feel a burning sensation behind his eyes and quickly closes them before there’s another accident.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really don’t know what happened. It makes no sense.”

He was sprawled on the mattress, his back arched, William tracing kisses down his body. He remembers briefly doubting the wisdom of having let William talk him into taking off his suit. All of his suit. He remembers William touching him, caressing him. It felt weird. Wrong. He tried to ignore it for a little while, but the feeling just kept getting more intense: not quite a tingle and not quite an itch, but somehow so much worse than either. Then William’s hands sent a sudden jolt through his body, and all he remembers is the urge to get away from this strange sensation, no matter what.

The rest, well, the rest of the story is little flakes of ash raining down on him from the ceiling.

Homelander buries his head in the blanket. This wasn't how he expected this night to end.

William’s arms wrap around him. “Eh. Don’t worry about it.” His heart is still beating faster than usual, but that’s probably just the aftereffect of being tossed across the room. Whatever anger he felt before is gone.

“Don't you worry about a thing, beautiful.” He peels the blanket off of Homelander’s shoulders and pushes him onto his back, resuming where they left off five minutes earlier, leaving Homelander gasping and squirming.

Something still isn’t right though. He can feel each and every hair of William’s beard on his skin, every touch of his fingers almost unbearable and—

“Stop! Stop!”

William stops, looks up. “What?”

“I… I don’t know.” He can’t put into words what exactly isn’t right.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No. No, no. It’s not that. It’s just-” It’s like his skin, which is supposed to protect him against fire, ice, bullets, is suddenly no longer doing its job. “I- I think my skin is malfunctioning. Or maybe my supe senses... I don’t know-” Homelander’s never had to think much about how exactly his body works. All he knows is that this isn’t supposed to happen.

William is studying him for a moment. Then he says: “Lie back down. I wanna try something.”

Homelander complies. He’s about to ask what the heck William wants to try when he feels his fingers lightly brush over his belly. This time, he can hear himself let out the most embarrassing little squeal before curling into a ball. At least he managed not to singe the ceiling this time.

William is laughing. “Your skin ain’t malfunctioning,” he says, a grin on his face. “You’re just ticklish.”

Homelander stares at him, mouth open, trying to think of something to counter. He’s heard of people being ticklish before. He’s read about it in books and seen it in movies. He technically knows what it is, though it always seemed like just another silly, human thing. A weakness, for sure. There’s no way he is ticklish. “Nonsense,” he mutters.

William’s grin widens. “Oh, I think you are.”

“I’m not!” Last thing Homelander needs is some stupid weakness.

“Alright,” William says. “Let’s try something then. Arms above your head.”

Homelander complies, suddenly wary, watching as William climbs on top of him and pins both his wrists with one hand. And then, without warning, he digs his other hand into Homelander’s undefended side.

This time, William hits the wall on the other side of the room, landing on the floor with a thud.

Still, there's the smuggest little grin on his face as he gets up. “You’re not just ticklish. You’re off-the-fucking-charts ticklish!”

Homelander wants to protest, but all the bits and pieces of knowledge about this sensation he’s never felt before are gradually coming together. It does make some sense, he has to admit. For a moment, he’s angry at Vought for their oversight: for desensitizing him to the most excruciating pain yet somehow managing to leave him with the silliest weakness possible.

“Fucking hell,” William says. “I can’t believe nobody’s figured this out before.” His eyes wander back to the hole in his ceiling. “Well, I suppose I can see why they wouldn’t have tried.” He’s laughing at his own joke, almost giddy with the excitement of his new discovery.

This cheerfulness is very unlike William, and it’s one Homelander doesn’t share. “I don’t need this kind of… deficiency. I can’t afford it. I’m the Homelander. What are people going to think when they find out?”

“Well, you're right, we can't have that.” The smug grin still hasn’t left William’s face. “We’re just gonna have to desensitize you then, won’t we, love?”

#cozy corner kinktober #butchlander #homelander x billy butcher #prompt: overstimulation #tickling #homelander #billy butcher #fluff #the boys #the boys fic #my fic

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