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themeraldee · 15 days

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Awkward sex prompt: homelander figuring out how to control his strength with a human reader, who still wants rough sex, but would prefer to be alive at the end of it.

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 1.2k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Realistic sex. Communicating during sex. Choking. Penetration (but not specified). Fluff at the end.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I want you to.”

It really should have been no surprise to Homelander when you requested he goes a little rougher on you in bed. At first he was taken aback, stopping the pace he was fucking into you with, jerking his head back as if offended, choking on his breath in surprise. You know who he is, bringing up the use of his strength is no small ask. But you’ve shown the signs before. He could hear the spike in your heart rate anytime he’d showcase the incomprehensible strength he possesses. Whether it was him moving heavy objects, accidentally bending steel frames in his penthouse or breaking furniture—like that one time he ripped the headboard off during a particularly fine blowjob—you loved it. Though he never thought that your dirty little thoughts went straight to him using that strength on you.

“What if I can’t hold back?” He looks down where you’re right below him, all flushed and spread out for him. He’s been giving you a damn good time but it’s like you can never get enough of him. Always wanting more, more, more.

“You can. You’ve been doing it your entire life. Adding a tiny bit more pressure isn’t gonna change anything.”

The one thing Homelander loves about you the most is the pure trust you have in him. After all you’ve seen of him you still believe that there’s no world in which he would purposefully hurt you. So to hear you all but beg for him to use strength that has more than decimated many gets his heart soaring. The feeling of acceptance and unconditional love blooms warm in his chest spreading all the way out to the fingertips currently wrapped around your neck.

“Come on, what’s the point of being the strongest man in the world if you can’t rough me up a bit? I’ll tell you if it’s too painful okay?”

Your hand sat on top, your fingers tracing over his as you squeezed your hand.

“A little more.” You guide him verbally and manually. Your hand is still squeezing around his own until you reach a point where you’re satisfied with his confidence to do this himself and you pull your hand away. “Yeah, that’s it.” You squeak out a little breathlessly as he restricts your airflow.

“That’s good?” He asks, choking on his words halfway at the way you squeeze around him while he’s still lodged firmly inside you. He jerks with his movement, giving you a very short snappy thrust but after your little intermission where you taught him how to choke even this little sensation made you moan.

Homelander’s eyes widen when he realizes the sheer potential of your request. Not only could he hear your heartbeat, your shaky breaths and moans, he could now also feel them. Right against his fingertips. The moan vibrated against his hot skin, your heartbeat constantly thrumming all around him. He felt it in the way you were tight and clenching around him and now he felt it under his grip.

He released his hand a little, settling the palm of it in between your collarbones.

“See? Wasn’t that good? I love feeling your strength, let me have a little more of it.” You say it with such conviction, inviting him in, accepting him exactly—no, especially—because of the way he is.

The last thing Homelander wants is to not be able to fulfill your needs. As much as the thought of hurting you—actually hurting you—kills him, if it’s something you find excitement in he’ll be damned if he doesn’t deliver.

He pulls you down the length of the bed a little bit to give himself more space and with a grin he pins your wrists above your head, holding them down against the mattress with little effort. He knows he’s doing something right when that startles you, you let out a cute yelp that quickly turns into a moan. God, he could eat you up with the way you’re looking at him. But he’s gonna need to leave that for round two. Now he’s here to fulfill a wish.

He slowly picks up the pace. He’s thrusting slow and deep while his other hand freely explores your body underneath him, giving it generous squeezes as he goes. He’s testing the give of you. Learning where he can apply the pressure you so desperately crave.

He’s fucking into your faster now, grunting at the sheer heat of you surrounding his cock with every slide. His hand glides up your body, settling back on your neck. He gives you a look as if he was warning you of what’s to happen. Yet he still manages to catch you off guard. With the snap of his hips and the iron-clad grip of his hand your eyes widen in what Homelander only translates to fear.

Immediately, he lets go.

“Why did you stop?!” You look at him, your own hand gliding across where his hand was squeezing a second ago, as if to chase the phantom feeling, recreating it yourself.

“Why did I stop? You got scared and I don’t want to fucking kill you!” He sounds angry but it’s mainly to hide the genuine worry that comes with this irresponsible play. It’s already hard for him to hold back anytime you’re having normal sex. Wanting him to rough you up conjures very different imagery in either one of your minds.

“Baby, the scary part is the best bit. I know you’ll stop before it’s too much. You can feel the give of my body. Let yourself feel that, okay?” You say softly, soothing his fears. In your entire relationship he’s not managed to hurt you, you don’t imagine it was about to start now.

“Now come on, I wanna cum with your hand around my neck.” You give him a cheeky smile that breaks him out of any doubts he had about manhandling you the way you’ve requested.

He’s given you exactly what you’ve asked for. Just enough squeeze and pressure that you feel so overwhelmed with the greatness of his presence pinning you down and nearly squeezing the life out of you that you succumb to your release. Homelander follows you there, unable to hold off after seeing the way you look at him with such adoration right after he let your airways open fully and you regained your senses.

After you’re both beyond blissed out you snuggle up to one another, locking the jigsaw pieces of your bodies together.

Homelander traces a finger across the bruised finger marks wrapping around your neck. Part of him relishes in the way he’s managed to brand you where you won’t be able to hide it easily. Even with a scarf or a turtleneck, any slight move of the garment will expose the impressive size of your lovingly placed bruises.

The other part of him isn’t that happy about it.

“I hurt you.”

“Duh! I wanted you to!” You scoff as if it was the most obvious thing.

His fingers trace over them some more before he leans in, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He lets out a little disbelieving laugh as he pulls you closer into his arms.

“Yeah, you’ve been rubbing off on me.”

“Nope, this is all you.”

“Maybe. Hey, can we try spanking next?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss

#thank you for the prompt #I've thoroughly enjoyed it!#though I realise this is less 'funny awkward' and more 'realistic awkward' so I hope that works #I'm getting pretty efficient at getting these out!#and I've always wanted to write a bit faster without overthinking it too much #but I do feel like I'm losing the characterization a bit so it's a slippery slope #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction #asks!#fic request

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blackjackkent · 5 months

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Time for bad decisions! \o/

The inside of the teahouse is...not quite what Rakha expected, to the extent that she knew what to expect at all.

Though it's a plain enough building from the outside, the inside barely seems constructed at all; grass and moss line the floor and walls, flowering plants sprout from every corner, and there's an enormous tree pushing up through the middle of the room and out through the roof. There's only one table, next to which is an ornate chair with a miserable-looking young woman seated in it.

And Ethel is there, looking none the worse for wear for whatever magic teleported her away from the men threatening her.

"I don't want to see a crumb left on that plate, girl," she's saying in a brisk, commanding tone as Rakha enters.

The girl clambers painfully from the chair. Rakha can see her swollen belly, the awkwardness with which she moves. She looks deeply ill, as nauseated as Rakha was at the scent of the Gur hunter outside. "Auntie Ethel, please," she whimpers. "One more bite and this pie is gonna come back up to say hello."

"Don't make me get the wooden spoon," Ethel snaps. "You're eating for two, so get to it!"

She turns, then does a double-take, registering Rakha's arrival. Immediately, the irritated expression bleeds off her face, replaced by a wide, welcoming smile.

"Ah! If it isn't my favorite flower!" she says brightly. "Welcome to Auntie Ethel's! Come in - come in! Feel free to relax yourself and have a cuppa, hm?"

Then she glances over her shoulder, her face suddenly imperious again. "Gods, grant me patience - eat up, Mayrina! I won't say it again."

Rakha feels, to put it mildly, off-balance. There's definitely something strange going on here - the girl looks miserable - but Ethel's treatment of her continues to be more pleasant than Rakha really has any other experience with, even from among her companions.

"You have... an interesting home," she says haltingly.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ethel says cheerily. "It's my little refuge for the lost and hopeless. People in dire need travel from all over Faerun to see little ol' me. And I do my damnedest to help them."

She takes a step closer, pokes her finger gently into Rakha's shoulder. "And you, petal - well, you need a lot of help." Her eyes narrow with sudden, incongruous intensity. "That wriggler swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn't it?"

Rakha goes very still. Of all the words she expected to come out of this strange woman's mouth... those were not among them. At once, her interest in the girl at the center of the room vanishes and she peers at Ethel with wary curiosity. "How do you know that?" she asks hoarsely.

Ethel clicks her tongue with a shrug. "Because you stink," she says. "And I know the stench of mind flayer anywhere." She takes another step closer, the kindly smile back on her face but with a strange, unreadable edge to it. "I can tell you're almost done cooking. You know you could turn - just like that. What do you say? Want me to take care of the little bugger?"

Rakha's breath quickens. Another promise of salvation, another offer of help to line up along all the others, most of which have fallen apart before they began.

The man outside said Ethel offered help for a price - and that fools would take it. Rakha is no fool.

But Ethel was kind to her without cause, mere days after she awoke. She asked no payment.

(A/N: I'ma be real - part of me just wants to do this because I never have before, because it's very different from what Hector did, and because I like my characters to have a steady diet of poor choices to make life more interesting. However, I also have been intrigued this whole time by Durge's initial conversation with Ethel. It really is an unexpected dose of kindness completely out of proportion to anything else that has happened to them up to that point - and completely manipulative, of course, but at the time Rakha had no reason to know that.

I kind of like this as a character-based Bad Decision because it also plays on the progress Rakha has been making up to this point. She's slowly becoming more comfortable with her companions, trusting their opinions and guidance - particularly Wyll, who is distinctly kind and looks past her darkness.

And Rakha is basically taking in these lessons that she's learning and picking the exact wrong person to focus them on, and letting that overrule the logical deductions she would normally be making here.

On some level, too, she's definitely salty about having been dragged to the creche and having that not pan out, so there is a fine, I'll do it myself attitude also coming into play. >.<)

"Yes," she says, almost before she has fully thought the words through. "Get this damn parasite out of me."

Ethel grins. "My - I do like them eager. But know that I don't work for free. I expect payment up front." Her grin widens, showing her teeth. "One of your pretty little peepers." She gives a dramatic pulling gesture with one hand. "I'll pluck it from your head, kiss it for luck, then back in it goes. Won't take but a moment!"

Rakha stares at her. "You want one of my *eyes*? Why?"

"I'm afraid that's my business, petal," Ethel says blithely. "It's nothing nefarious though - I promise."

Rakha shifts her weight slowly from one foot to the other, squinting. "Will my sight be damaged?" she asks slowly.

"A touch," answers Ethel. "But sure you've two eyes in your skull, don't you? No need to be precious."

A long pause. Then Rakha nods, because Ethel was kind to her once and because the creche didn't work, and because she can feel the worm squirming in her temple with agitation. "You have a deal," she says.

(A/N: LOL. Unsurprising.

Honestly it's hard for me to justify NONE of these people stepping in and dragging Rakha away before she can do something stupid, so I'm inclined to say that the others absolutely were not paying attention until right this moment. Lae'zel is hanging outside the door looking around bc of the weird vibes the swamp was giving everyone, Wyll is focused on Mayrina's agitation, Shadowheart is busy checking out some of the potions on the shelves elsewhere in the teahouse. And everyone clocks the conversation right at the moment that Rakha makes the deal. Whoops.

Never leave your Durge unsupervised.)

"Glorious." Ethel smiles widely. "One moment. Auntie needs her real nails for this."

The Weave around them surges with sudden bright energy, and Rakha watches as the human woman's form shifts and twists with violent, cracking jerks, then settles into something new - almost as tall as Rakha herself, bulkier and sharp.

Around them, the illusion of the place fades, the sunlit wetland giving way to a dark, forbidding swampland. The building itself seems to shrivel, the flowers dying in an instant, the grass turning brown.

"Much better," Ethel says - the same voice coming from the new, monstrous face. "That human skin is fierce restrictive."

Rakha draws a slow breath and lets it out heavily through her teeth. So. The man outside was right, it seems. [WIZARD] "A green hag," she says flatly. "And a powerful specimen, it seems."

(A/N: By game mechanics this is a wizard line - but in this case I think it's really just Rakha putting together all the pieces she's been given up to this point, and conscious of the amount of magical manipulation that just happened.)

"Thank you, petal," the hag croons. Her voice has taken on a lower, gravellier tone - not so distant from Rakha's own growl. "It is so lovely to be appreciated. Magic is the lifeblood of hags. And I'm one of the best."

Lifeblood. Rakha feels a shiver of understanding at that. She too feels that way about how the Weave works its way through her with each breath. She knows nothing about hags beyond what the hunter outside told her; she has no idea if Ethel is telling the truth. But she suspects she is - at least about her power. Rakha can feel it in the air.

"Now choose..." Ethel murmurs. "Which eye will it be? Right or left?"

The last chance to back down. The beast in her head certainly wants no more to do with this - it sees the monster before them and wishes to rip and tear and break and smash and kill.

But in truth Rakha's decision is already made. She wants the worm gone. And on some level, unarticulated even to herself, she wants this woman's - this creature's - kindness to have been real.

Perhaps it is some deep, obscure flicker of sentimentality that leads her to say the same eye that Wyll is missing. "Take the right eye," she says.

(A/N: I think this is the point where everyone else clocks in on what's happening. XD Also I wonder what happens if you have her take Volo's fake eye. Will have to look that up later lol. )

"Hell's fires--" she hears Wyll shout from behind her. "What are you--"

Agony. Light bursts around Rakha's body, the Weave surging and bending and screaming along her skin.

"Hold onto your knickers," Ethel whispers in her ear. "This might sting a bit."

Rakha staggers. She can't see through the pain, but she's dimly aware of Ethel reaching out to her, and then a wrenching, yanking tug and a spasm of brighter pain, and then the hot scent of blood spattering on the wood floor.

Then an impact as if she's been struck across the face, a backwards slam that almost sends her off her feet.

Sudden silence. Calm. The pain ebbs, slowly fades out into a prickling numbness on the right side of her face. Her temple throbs.

"Now..." Ethel says coolly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Check that your eye is still there.

It is indeed there. She paws unsteadily at her face, feeling a strange pulsing heat under her brow. Swaying, she turns and finds Wyll at her side. He looks grim, grips her arm, helping to hold her upright.

"That color suits you..." purrs Ethel. She reaches out her long-clawed hand again. "Now... unless you want tentacles for a tongue, stay absolutely still. I've removed one of these buggers before - but it's a touch tricky."

Pain again - this time a clearer sort, more familiar. The parasite, howling its objection to Ethel's intrusion.

Narrator: The parasite squirms at the hag's words. Pain builds behind your eye. You feel the creature writhe as it's dragged towards your ear... then it bites back, burrowing even deeper into your brain.

Rakha screams, falling to her knees as her vision whites out completely. She can hear an answering sound of similar agony from Ethel and finds herself taking a flash of savage pleasure from it.

"Aaaaaaaaaggghhhhh! Gods-damned wretched-- argh!"

Ethel towers over Rakha's fallen body, shaking with sudden rage. "You little shit! You didn't tell me it was Netherese! I'm not touching that!"

Rakha struggles back to her feet, trembling all over. "Netherese?" she whispers weakly.

"Filthy shadow magic," Ethel snarls. "Brings nothing but chains and misery. How could I have missed the stink? Like blood and piss congealing on my tongue. Bleh." She spits. "Someone's tampered with your parasite. That's likely why you've not turned yet."

Foolish, Rakha thinks, a stab of anger suddenly cutting through the pain - anger at herself as well as at Ethel. You knew that. Halsin told you as much. So did the guardian.

"I thought you could remove it," she rasps. Foolish. Foolish. I believed you.

"I can," Ethel says. "But that thing has been touched by more than mind flayers." She shrugs dismissively. "You're a dead soul walking. I can't help you."

"What about my eye?" Rakha asks.

Ethel sneers. "What about it? I held up my end of the bargain. It's not my fault the wriggler's tainted by shadow magic. I want nothing to do with you or that scum in your brain."

The anger shifts to rage - furious, helpless anger at having been used, misled, manipulated. It was all a trick, right from the beginning. The beast roars in Rakha's skull, feeding on the scent of the blood from her own face. Kill her.

"I'm not leaving," she growls. "This wasn't the deal."

"You're bloody right it wasn't!" Ethel screeches. "I agreed to remove an illithid spawn. That thing is an abomination!" Her voice quiets - only slightly. "But let it not be said that Auntie Ethel doesn't honor her debts. Here--" She shoves a putrid piece of bone into Rakha's hand.

"It's on you to fix yourself," the hag snaps. "Now get out!"

Before any of them can respond, she pivots on her heel. "Come now, Mayrina. Time to go!" she snaps. There's another burst of magic. She and the girl both vanish; Rakha can see the slightest shiver through the Weave, marking a path away and seemingly through the solid wall where the fireplace sits.

And then she's gone, and Rakha is left alone with her own foolishness.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #WELLP #good job rakha #obviously we're gonna go kill ethel because rakha is hopping mad #but i've hit the image limit on this post XD #and also it's late #so that will be a weekend adventure #probably followed by wyll chewing rakha out something fierce but also being worried about her #and then the underdark #so y'know #real roller coaster XD #thoroughly enjoying making this choice tho; this is very different from how this played out for hec #cw eyeball

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