#Homewell

[ladyantiheroine]

Has anyone done this yet.

[mochapao]

did you ever really care about me?

[devilander]

homelander // how quickly the blade becomes You.

[homelande-r]

homelander screencaps (3/?)

[deliciouskeys]

Based on this brilliant ships dynamics post

[abrubag]

SIXFT - Homelander (multi-pairing)

youtube link

Happy birthday @deliciouskeys! Click here for a few other videos. Be warned it's all downhill from here.

[blindmagdalena]

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.

[plasticfangtastic]

My Masterlist

Hi my name is Plastic/Kay and I been meaning to make a masterlist of all my "The Boys" fanfictions. I Hate short stories and I write long chapters.

Might self-reblog after the cozy corner kinktober event--- after I add those fics.

My fave ships for the boys are Butchlander, Homeash and Homelander x A-Train (Homerun??) and nobody wants to give me that so i will be making my own for kinktober. Professional Homelander simp

Cuz tumblr only allows 10 links per post i be doing individual masterlists for my long projects and put the links here once this gets to max capacity i will do a new masterlist with this one as a link.. will update this frequently!

Currently working on:

Of The Same Poisonous Ilk (A Butchlander and Homelander self-cest fic) (on hiatus)

Building Blocks (A Butchalnder alt. au fic) (on hiatus)

Anybody Else Won't do (A Ashlander fic) (on Hiatus)

Thank you for reading my works!

Can We Be Lonely Together?:

R18+ Homelander x GN! Stalker/Supe Reader (or Homelander X Joe Goldberg... is up to you) this work is over 270 pages long and 120K plus words (status: completed)

Of The Same Poisonous Ilk:

R18+ Butchlander/ HL self-cest with a bit of Homewell (Status: WIP/ hiatus)

American Royalty:

M- Rating (australian rating no idea what the rating system is in the US/other countries so this is just like a bit over PG+13) Homelander X F!Reader/Dadlander fic. (Status: Completed)

Carnivorous lamb:

R18+ a OC and Homelander NTR sort of fic, so don't rec if you can't handle dark topic. (Status: Completed)

My one-shots

All fics are R18- first set its a collection of the cozy corner kinktober event, this will now include general one shots too.

[xieyaohuan]

Homelander and Madelyn, The Boys, Season 1, Episode 2, "Cherry"

I love how he's trying to be cute for her with his flap down. He was probably standing in front of the mirror adjusting his look, pulling the flap down and up and down again before barging in on her.

[aliengh0st]

[digitalbath1988]

Happy Birthday @blindmagdalena! My fellow Virgo ❤️ I wrote this quickly for you.

You deserve so much more for all the wonderful posts and just being a lovely person. Hope you get to relax today. 🎂 🥛 ❤️🤍💙

Homelander looked down at your pussy, already puffy and dripping in anticipation. You’d been somewhat surprised when he opened the door to Madelyn, while you were mid-foreplay. But the elegant older woman had always interested you. Also, he was The Homelander, and things generally went his way.

“Don’t be shy, sweet boy,” Madelyn said, reassuring hand now sliding over his nude glute. “Why don’t you show your little girlfriend here just how much you’ve learned?”

You bit your lip and looked up at him, knowing he was actually overeager but attempting to control himself. “Yeah, show me,” you say, words like honey, opening your legs further.

He pursed his lips slightly, you could have sworn there was some sort of perverse pleasure in being lightly bossed around, as long as he was rewarded at the end. After far too long he knelt down, focusing his tongue in long, broad, slow strokes that had you wriggling.

Madelyn watched over you both, expression carefully neutral. She always reserved praise (or distaste) for him sparingly and didn’t express without much thought, and this time was no different. As he focused far too much at teasing your labia, you heard “now, what did we talk about?”

He leaned his head up, with a small whine of disappointment from you. Is he bowing his head?

“I ummm, I’m supposed to give more attention to the clit.”

“Good boy, that’s right.” She worked her hand through his hair. “Why don’t you make mommy proud?”

From the look in his eyes when she said it, you suspected he was already attempting to subtly hump the mattress, glute muscles twitching, probably coating himself in pre-cum as she spoke. Madelyn was getting that sight all to herself now, but you took a mental note to file away for later.

Luckily, you’d never been the jealous type. This experience was just exciting, even more so than the times you’d fucked on various rooftops.

He groaned as she guided his head back towards you gently, and started over, not making the mistake of going directly for the clit after a minute of zero stimulation. He started with those broad tongue strokes again, then sucked on your clit as he fingered you. The result was an avalanche. It was all you could do to grasp at the fitted sheet for dear life as you died a little, shuddering and cumming. The fact that she was there watching this made it even hotter, her calculating stare taking you in as you screamed out animalistically.

Finally, after a minute to let you recover, she fluffed his hair again. “Such a good boy. Next time you can take care of both of us.” You were too out of it to register much more than the click clack of her stilettos and the door shutting behind her.

He seemed to regain some sort of confidence, catching your chin on his hand and forcing you to focus on his bright blue eyes. “That’s just the first one, sweetheart.” He said with a grin.

[ladyantiheroine]

[preakr]

homelander/madelyn commission by prettyboizel

[super-hero-confessions]

[blaacknoir]

So I was originally going to write a short little fic to go along with this gifset (if you're reading this post then please go reblog it), kind of an impromptu thing, and then it started to get worryingly long and I didn't want to have to worry about losing it if Tumblr crashed and anyway here's 2700 words about this scene oh my god what the fuck 😭

@xieyaohuan Have a gift apparently.

[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerevents' Kinktober 2024 prompt #7: Shibari

Homewell; AU where Madelyn didn't die in season 1 and they just continued down that path...

"N-o…"

The way Madelyn says that word is both mortifying and goes straight to his erection, even though he doesn't think he could be any harder. She says it in the tone he's heard people use with dogs, cats, maybe small children. Like he's about to get a cone around his head or be put in a corner. She pries his hands off of her and gets up off his lap.

Their sexual trysts follow a very predictable script. It's always on the couch in her office. Never at her house. The one time he showed up at her house, thinking what's allowed at work would certainly be allowed at home, she had such a cold expression while rebuffing him that he was afraid to even fly past her house to spy on her at night for a few weeks. Doing this anywhere near Teddy was off-limits apparently, and he supposes that's for the best.

When they do it, she's always on top of him, clambering into his lap and then riding him, always the one in complete control of the pace, the angle, and the depth. But no matter what she does, no matter how languidly she moves, he always comes too quickly for his own liking. Maybe not as quickly as the first time they finally did the deed. But quick enough that he always apologizes, genuinely sorry and mortified but also knowing him saying 'sorry' and looking visibly disappointed with himself triggers reassurances from her. She's never angry about him coming early. Sometimes he wonders if she looks relieved that he's done, like she was just waiting to feel his hips jerking up underneath her. She tolerates anything from him in that department, timewise. But what she doesn't tolerate is something that he still mistakenly does from time to time, when he loses himself in the moment. He doesn't know why he does it. He has no idea where the impulse comes from and even less why it became a habit so hard to break. Maybe he saw it in some pornography video he watched very early on, when he was let out of the lab and suddenly discovered a whole world of information that everyone else was constantly using and privy to. But he doesn't even remember. He knows he often did it with Maeve when she insisted on being on top, also preferring to be in control of their encounters. It was something that made him feel like he was wresting back just a little bit of control– that he was taking enjoyment by slapping her and holding her hips as if he owned them. Maeve didn't seem to mind it. But Madelyn does, and she's right to mind it. He can't deny it's a risk, letting him smack her, however gentle he thinks he's being. 

She's gotten angry before, but she's never gotten off his lap and interrupted the whole thing.

"I'm really sorry," he finally musters up the words, panting, watching her walk away to her desk, a little worried that this was the last straw– that she won't allow him inside her again-- maybe ever again, his mind races with the terrifying prospect. "I- I wasn't thinking."

"Well it's very dangerous for me if you aren't thinking," Madelyn says, and she even puts her glasses back on. Why is she putting her glasses back on? Homelander can barely suppress a little whine of disappointment at the idea that his erection is just going to stay out in the cold air.

"Madelyn, please, I won't do it again. Look, I'll sit on my hands… I'll…" He looks around, desperately trying to think of what he can promise to do to atone for doing that one thing she hates.

"No, that's not enough" she says. "You cannot just do things and say you weren't thinking afterwards."

"It's because…" he trails off when he sees her coming back with a large bundle of rope. Why was that in her desk?

"Because what?" she asks, looking down at him indulgently over her glasses.

He sighs and gathers himself, folds his hands sheepishly in his lap. "Because it just feels so good to be so intimate with you."

"Thank you, Homelander, that's very kind of you to say" she says, stroking his face, and he really appreciates her never using petnames with him. "But I need to take some precautions myself. We need an early warning system. Now give me your hand."

He stares at her small, manicured hand-- it's purple nailpolish today, and she'll change it again in two or three days. She’s waiting for him to offer his hand, and he has no idea what she expects or has in mind. He thought she might be planning to tie his hands behind his back, but she seems to be asking for only one. He extends it towards her, and nearly jerks it back when she starts pulling his glove off. But he stops himself, submitting his hand to her. He's desperate to obey her to a tee right now, before giving her any more reason to end this session early.

"I need bare skin," she says as pulls the glove clean off and drops it on the floor.

He watches her, confused, as she interlaces her fingers in his. The contact makes him uncomfortable. She knows he doesn't do well with skin contact to his palms, so why is she doing this? She loops the thin rope around his fingers, and before he's aware of what's happening she has his three middle fingers in a complicated looking knot.

"What're you doing?" he asks, smiling uncertainly, trying not to look scared. He doesn't rightly know what he should be scared of, but Madelyn doing new things, asking new things of him, scares him, scares him with the thought that he'll reveal his ignorance, or not measure up in some way. So he tries to straighten out his back to look taller and more confident.

"I had a boyfriend in college who used to do really complicated rope bondage with me… relax, it was before I met you. Before I joined Vought," she adds, almost laughing.

Homelander averts his gaze, wondering what in his face gave away his immediate tension about her mention of another man. She knows him uncomfortably well.

Madelyn continues talking as she bends his hand until his forearm is right up against his bicep, wrapping the rope around, such that his arm is stuck in this bent position, fingers pulled back, forcing his hand open. "He was really into it, really skilled with the knots. He took pictures of me and it was artwork, frankly. I don't know if I can do it justice, but I still remember some of the knots and patterns he taught me. This one's called the Server's Hand."

"W-why would you be doing that?" Homelander asks, and he immediately hates how naive and straitlaced he sounds. He never went to college. He never really dated anyone except Maeve, and while she taught him a lot, he hated feeling behind. At least Madelyn is older, an authority figure in his life. At least she doesn't seem to judge him for the question.

"For me, getting rope laid on me was pretty sensual. I have no idea if it is for you– especially since you can't really struggle against the bonds like an ordinary person does. It also works better on the skin itself, but I assumed you wouldn't want to take off the top of your suit."

Homelander shakes his head. If there's one thing that was going to make this entire encounter more nerve-wracking it would be if she asked him to strip his top off. He never did except in the privacy of his apartment. Maeve made fun of him for that too.

"It's also about aesthetics," Madelyn says. "But that's probably more for me than you."

Homelander watches her start working on his other hand and lets her, trying to pay attention to the sensation, tries to see if he understands what she means about the rope itself being some sort of turn-on.

"So why're you doing it to me?" he asks, his voice still sounding smaller than he'd like. He's sitting there, very obedient, his erection flagging, but resurrecting itself every time she grabs the bare skin of his hand to maneuver it into the place she wants.

"For you? I know these ropes are like cobwebs. It wouldn't take much for you to rip right through them. But if you do, I get up and leave. Before you decide to smack me again, despite me telling you to never do that, over and over."

There it is. It is a punishment of sorts after all. Homelander would rather be sitting on his hands. This pose, now having his arms immobilized on both sides is not very comfortable, his muscles jammed against each other. But he can't very well sag against the ropes, not when she just told him not to break them. There's more rope remaining and she starts wrapping it around his neck.

"Now usually," she narrates, "it would be bad practice to tie rope around your neck. It's considered pretty dangerous unless you use specific knots that bear loads in specific ways. I’m not experienced with that and I wouldn't do it with anyone else, frankly. But I don't think we have to worry about that, right?"

Homelander shakes his head, swallowing, feeling his adam's apple move against the rope she's wrapping around his neck in several loops before creating something like a leash that she uses to pull his head forward. He doesn't have to move of course, but he doesn't want to risk the rope breaking.

Homelander tries to picture exactly what he looks like, his arms pinned up, elbows out, palms facing her, a collar and leash around his neck. But Madelyn answers his question for him.

"There we go. So pretty. Wrapped up like some kind of gift, with a bow."

Homelander swallows down a whimper. It barely counts as praise of him, when she's admiring her own handiwork, but when she says she enjoys looking at him like this, it makes him stop questioning anything about what they're doing.

She takes off her glasses and gets back on the couch, her knees on either side of his naked thighs, but she doesn't sit back quite yet, peering at him before warning him, "Now if you tear any of that rope…"

"I won't!" he retorts, and regrets interrupting her, wondering if she was going to threaten him with something sexy. But he's scared of disappointing her and he wants her to sit down again, wants to be enveloped in his warm, soft humidity so desperately. He doesn't care if some of that moisture isn't her own excitement but just the bottle of silky lube she preps herself with. She keeps it in her locked desk drawer but he can easily peer through it, can sometimes see her through the door of her office getting ready for him, discreetly, under the desk. He'd never dream of calling her out on that. Don't ask, don't tell. She wants him, she finds him attractive, and they have a bond like no one else in this whole entire company, and that's all that matters. "... I won't," he repeats, quietly. 

She lowers herself down on him slowly, and he's just as hard as when she came off of him earlier. Everything feels great, is going great, and he's even got his eyes closed, until he feels her fingers touch his exposed palms.

"Nggghh, Madelyn!" He manages to mumble out her entire name after his grunt. He sounds pained but it has more to do with his sensitivity, finding it hard to sit still and not squirm his hands away.

She relents but only for a moment, and Homelander feels her grab his hands again, rubbing her thumbs into the middle of his palms, and the sensation is both uncomfortable and supremely arousing.

"M-Madelyn…" The word exits his mouth almost like a cough. He still sounds pained, and now wonders if he is, wonders where over-sensitivity ends and real discomfort begins. It's so hard to keep his hands still when they're being touched so aggressively.

"You see how it can feel when someone else is touching you without permission?" she asks, and he nods eagerly, even though he barely sees the parallel. When he slaps Madelyn it's a loss of control on his part. He's never ever seen her lose control, at least not with him around. He's seen her lose control alone, at home, using her vibrator, and he wonders if he should try being bolder, asking her if he can go down on her and try to tonguepunch her rapidly enough that she has to admit he's better than a battery powered toy. But she's always in control of herself and even of him when they're together.

At least she's stopped touching his hands, now merely petting his arms, straining in the knots not to free himself but to keep as still as possible and not break a single dainty, fragile rope.

"Do you feel good?" she asks and he nods automatically, even though there's frisson up and down his spine as his body starts anticipating that she'll touch him somewhere near his underarms, and he shudders at the thought, dreading it even it happens through the protection of the suit. But he does feel good. Anytime she's sitting on top of him is a good feeling and everything else is details.

"You look beautiful like this," she says pulling him in with the leash, his nose almost bumping into her chest, inhaling her scent which always seems to concentrate near her breastbone. She strokes his face, and runs her fingers through his hair a few times before resuming her rhythm. Homelander is instantly feeling electrified. His arms are begging to move, to hold her small body and feel ownership of it in his lap. But he stays as he is, closing his eyes, losing himself to the stimulation on his throat, on his fingers, and yes on his cock but that’s almost an afterthought right now.

His orgasm is slower in coming than he’s used to, his body confused by new sensations, and his mind preoccupied with keeping still, but once it comes he's embarrassed by the sounds escaping him. He thrusts upward, desperately, once, twice, thrice, before collapsing down in the couch, feeling more spent than usual.

Belatedly he realizes that some of the ropes holding his arms pinched have ripped and he nearly starts crying because it seems like he just keeps finding new ways of disappointing her.

But she looks down at him with a kind, indulgent smile. "I know it was hard. You did so well," she says, almost beatifically, and for once he thinks she might be sincere.

AO3 link

The "server's hand"? It looks like this: