For your dark prompts: HomelanderxFem!Reader
"Do it or I'll make you," + Stalking/Obsession
The Butterfly Effect
Alternate Dark version of Tea and Honey
18+
CW: DUBCON
What if the mug broke? What if one tiny hiccup changed everything? An alternate version of Tea and Honey where one small accident changes Homelander’s and Baker’s stories forever
Homelander’s eyes land on a lone mug on your counter. It’s colorful and chipped and so you that the unexpected rush of endearment he feels helps direct him out of his rage for a moment. His brow furrows as an idea begins to form. He can fix this. He just needs to do what you would do. But his hands are still clumsy with emotion and when he reaches for the mug, his grip causes the pottery to shatter. The noise is so loud in his ears and his chest heaves. What if that was your favorite mug? He imagines that’s what your skull would feel like crumpled between his palms. He digs his palms into his eyes and he can feel the heat from the glow of his lasers.
“Listen to me. C’mon Tiger, when have I ever let you down?” The familiar voice cajoles him. Homelander turns teary eyes to the glass at last and finds his old friend looking back at him. He shrinks back from his condescending gaze.
“Can you help? I don’t want her to hate me.” He sniffles, ashamed at his emotional reaction. He’s pathetic and he hates that about himself. You’re just a toy, something to amuse himself with. But here he is weeping like a snot nosed little brat at the mere thought of your disapproval. He cringes.
“Why don’t you let me take over for a bit? I’ll straighten it all out.” The mirror replies, smug. Homelander falters for a moment. He wants more than anything to hand things over for the moment, to have someone else deal with the responsibility. But he’s aware of the methods normally required. He clears his throat nervously.
“Just…don’t hurt her.” He answers sheepishly. He can feel the disapproval from the figure in the glass and he has to look away for a moment. The voice goes quiet and Homelander crushes the remaining pottery shards in his hands to dust.
“Don’t worry, I won’t break your toy. She just needs a little…fixing before she will be ready for you to play with again.” The voice assures him and Homelander’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like the sound of that but he doesn’t have a choice. If he continues like this, he’ll just keep fucking up. He doesn’t know what else to do so he nods.
“Atta boy.”
————————
Homelander steps out of the kitchen and rolls his eyes at the pathetic figure you make on the couch. Is this really what has John in such a tizzy? This? It baffles him. Your sniffles set his teeth on edge. It’s so tempting to just stalk over and snap your neck. That way he’d be able to remove the hindrance of you from John’s life so he wouldn’t have anything holding him back from his true self. But…that would cause more problems then it would solve when John returns so he begrudgingly restrains himself. He’ll just teach you a few manners before it’s time to hand the reins back over.
“I’m sorry.” You whimper into your knees. Homelander snorts. If you were really sorry you’d get down on your knees and grovel. You’d open your mouth like a good little toy to accept whatever he decided to give you. Do you expect him to coddle you?
“I’m so so sorry. I ruined everything.” Your whiny little apology grates on his nerves. Maybe you should have thought of that before you threw your temper tantrum over a little thunder. He needs to teach you a lesson about how not to be an over-reactive little brat. He needs to teach you that your place is to make John happy and if he wants to dangle you over a pit of hungry sharks, your job should be to bat your eyes and thank him for the privilege. That’s all humans are good for.
“You did.” He replies blankly. You sob and he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“What the actual fuck, John? At least the last one wasn’t such an incompetent waste of space.”
There’s no answer so he must be hiding in shame. Pathetic.
“Stop fucking crying. You’re giving me a headache.” He grumbles. You do stop and you finally raise your head to look at him. Your lips tremble but the hurt in your eyes slowly morphs into a sharpness that’s intriguing.
“That’s better. Y’know…you really fucked up kiddo. But there’s always room for a redemption arc. I’ll let you make it up to me.” He says smugly. You give one last disgusting sniffle before you grab a tissue from the couch side table to wipe your nose. Your eyes are wary and suspicious. You blink away your tears. He’s surprised. As insipid as you are, you seem to have noticed that there is something different about your “friend.” Although…he supposes it isn’t that difficult when you’re used to getting smoke blown up your spoiled ass.
“Make it up to you?” You repeat slowly, as if it’s some ridiculous suggestion. “Sure, I’ll make you whatever you want! I only have ingredients for brownies at the moment but I can run to the…” He cuts you off with a gesture as he grits his teeth. He can’t stand your rambling. Why do you always seem to think he cares about what you have to say?
“No. Your baking isn’t special.” He ignores the flash of angry hurt that crosses your face. “I’m going to need something really good if I’m going to excuse your behavior.”
Your mouth twitches as if you’re about to answer but he can smell iron when you bite your lip hard enough to split it. You crumple the snotty tissue in your fist.
“Do you want to know what that is?” He asks with a tilt of his head. “Go on…ask me.”
You don’t answer but you continue to meet his gaze with suspicious eyes.
“Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re going to have to adjust your attitude or this will be a lot harder than it has to be.” He saunters over with his hands crossed under his cape until he’s looming over you on the couch. You shrink back and he’s filled with a sick sense of pleasure at your fear. It’s not as much as he was expecting but he can work with that. “You are going to wipe those pathetic tears off your face, grow a fucking spine, and I’m going to fly you back out into the storm as long as I please until you’re cured of this ridiculous attitude.”
“No!” You shout and the surprise of it causes him to step back. “I’m sorry I hit you. I am. I truly am. But I’m not going back out there. I won’t!”
Homelander crouches and like a snake his hand darts out to grab your chin with a bruising grip. You whimper painfully as he tilts your face up and he leans in close enough to kiss you if he wanted.
“Do it or I’ll make you.” He hisses and his eyes flare red. He can hear your heart beating quickly in your chest like a little hummingbird. He imagines crushing it in his fist. You flinch back at the heat but he’s surprised at the way your expression doesn’t falter. He’s starting to realize he might have been wrong about you. You’re tougher than you look. You scrunch your brow and your eyes are full of uncertainty. Yet your chin still juts out with foolish bravery and righteous indignation. It’s cute. If he squints he can almost get what John sees in you.
“That’s not a choice because I can’t say no.” You reply. He laughs. Did… The laugh turns into a wheeze. Did you really think he is truly giving you a choice? What fucking planet are you from? He’s decided that he does like you. You’re fun to play with. He wishes he was allowed to break you…that’s always the part he likes the most.
“You can say no.” He purrs, releasing your chin to run a finger down your cheek. You shudder at the unexpectant gentleness.
“I can?” You reply quietly, voice shaky with uncertainty. But if you see the trap then you’re good at ignoring it. If you don’t then you’re just stupid. “Well…then I’m saying no.”
Just stupid then.
“Alright.” He answers, his hand now gripping the back of your neck firmly. You blink owlishly when you try to pull away only to meet an iron resistance. Your heart skips an anxious beat.
“Are you going to let me go now?” You ask shakily and he’s almost admiring of your stubborn idiocy.
“When did I say I was letting you go?” He leans in to whisper in your ear. He can’t resist nibbling a bit and you jump and shiver against him. He inhales deeply.
You’re wet.
“You…you just said I could say no.” You fight his hold once again but he only tightens his grip until you start to wince.
“Yes, and you’ve said it. But I never said it meant you could leave.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Now, you’re going to be obedient or I’m going to get creative.”
He reaches his other hand down to stroke the inside of your thigh. You inhale sharply and he groans at the scent of you on his tongue. Maybe this is why John is so pussy whipped when he hasn’t even tried you out yet. You smell fucking delicious. He wonders what you’d do if he buried his face between your legs just to breathe you in. He would…if he wasn’t determined to teach you a lesson first.
“Who are you?” You ask bluntly. The accusation in your voice takes him by surprise. He tilts his head curiously. Aren’t you a clever bug?
“I’m the Homelander” He replies, his hand sliding high until his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs. You jolt and slap your hand down on top of his, although your scent only grows stronger at his bold touches. Your cheeks are warm now too. Homelander scoffs. John should have been giving you what you need. You’re woefully deprived of attention when even a threat has you dripping for his touch. John doesn’t even know what he’s missing.
“You’re not him!” You argue with him and fuck you are cute when you’re all in a tizzy. You’re so convinced that your “hero” is a gentleman. It’s so hilariously misguided. “I don’t know who you are but you’re different. You’re wearing his skin or something. I know him and he’s not perfect but he wouldn’t treat me like thi…!”
“Do you want to know all the disgusting thoughts he’s had about you?” He strokes the inside of your thigh and feels incredibly smug at the adorable look of pure shock on your face. Your mouth drops open and your eyes grow round as saucers. The heat in your cheeks floods your body from the top of your ears to the tips of your toes. You wriggle in his grip but he moves his hand to cup you boldly. You let out a broken whine.
“While you were daydreaming about your “Prince Charming” he was coming his brains out thinking about his tongue in that wet little pussy of yours.” He leans forward to purr in your ear. His fingers are still but he refuses to move his hand from its home between your legs. You whimper and bite your swollen lip, still split from your teeth earlier.
“He pretends to be such a gentleman, thinking that’s what you want. But it’s not what you want, is it?” He chuckles darkly. “Did you know that he can smell whenever you get wet? You’d prance around like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth but brown sugar wasn’t the only thing filling his nose.”
“WHO ARE YOU?!” You yell and you shove against his chest. He reluctantly pulls away. He’s too curious as to what you think you’re going to do with your pitiful human bravery.
“I’m a friend of his. I help him whenever he needs.” He answers, leaning back on his heels to give you a little space. You cross your legs immediately but the way you shift lets him know that it’s not purely out of modesty. You filthy little slut. He’d take care of you better than John ever could.
“Where’s my Homelander?” You push.
An unexpected flash of jealousy burns in his chest.
“I am your Homelander! I’m just…a different part of him, I suppose.” He replies, as a wicked wicked thought enters his mind. “But…if you want him back, you’ll need to coax him back. You hurt his feelings pretty badly. He needs some reassurance.”
“What kind of reassurance?” You reply warily.
He gives you a smile that would put a shark to shame.
He was planning to punish you. He wanted to teach you to mind your manners. He wanted to show you your place. But now…his idea of where that is has shifted. After all his hard work over the years keeping John safe, he deserves a little treat for himself. It’s time for him to get some sugar.
“I bet that sweet body of yours would get him back here pretty quick.” He reaches out to rest a hand on your knee. He expects you to flinch but all you do is take a slow shaky inhale. It’s almost as if you knew it was all going to lead to this point. He squeezes just a little and a soft noise escapes your lips.
“He’ll come back? Will he… I mean…we’re a thing kinda and I don’t know if he’d want…” You can’t quite articulate what you're trying to say but he’s enjoying watching you try. He knows what you mean anyway. You’re worried that you’ll be cheating on him with himself. The situation is so bizarre that he can’t help but laugh.
“If it makes you feel better, all I want is a taste. I’ll leave that cherry for him.” He gives a reassuring pat to your knee. “Besides, same guy just different…perspectives.”
You swallow thickly and don’t meet his gaze but when he kneels and gently peels your legs apart, he doesn’t meet any resistance. Not that it would matter if you did resist, but it’s nice to have your cooperation. He groans low in his throat as he yanks you forward and you gasp as he buries his nose in the wet spot soaking through your sleep shorts.
No panties either…naughty
He breathes you in hungrily, growling against the damp fabric. His hands grip your hips firmly to hold you in place. Your heart is beating quick like a little rabbit as you struggle to keep your breathing steady at the onslaught of sensation. He should send John a gift basket for fucking up because he can’t remember the last time he indulged in this. He’s used to backseat driving but to have control of the wheel…he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to give your sweet pussy up. He wouldn’t need your approval, just your wet cunt wrapped around him as he fucks you stupid. You would simply have to forget about any life beyond his bed.
He nuzzles further into you and he’s pleasantly surprised when you shyly grip his hair. You’re barely even tugging but just the brush of your fingers against his scalp is making his cock throb against the cup of his suit. He can feel the hard nub of your clit bump against his nose through your shorts. He pinches the inside of your thigh to make you jump and squeal. He barely used any pressure but the skin is already turning red. It’ll probably bruise and Homelander finds he really likes that. He likes the idea of leaving a mark on you that’s his and not John’s.
He finally decides to take a taste so he tugs the gusset of your tiny little shorts to the side and wastes no time licking a stripe up your pretty cunt. You’re dripping like a slut and the sweet musky taste of you has him bucking into the air. He makes himself comfy as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He can’t see anything past your pussy but he just knows that your toes are curling as he occupies himself with sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair finally graduates to sharp yanks with every fresh bolt of pleasure that courses through you.
For all of John’s fantasies, none of them came close to what it’s like to actually tongue your hole till you squeal.
“Homelander” You moan and his hips buck into the air. You sound so good when you say his name.
“You’ve been starving for this, haven’t you? Despite acting like such a cocktease in your little strawberry apron. Although I’m surprised, as much as he’s watched you…shhh shh shhh oh yes he has. As much as he’s watched you he never saw you playing with that needy cunt of yours. Don’t tell me you’re such a goody two shoes that you don’t even get yourself off?” He slaps your ass for good measure and he can feel you pulse against his tongue. John wouldn’t be happy that he exposed his dirty secret but if the cat is already out of the bag, he doesn’t see the point in trying to shove it back in. Especially when it’s so fun to play with.
“S-shower.” You choke out and he hums in understanding. John had no problems rubbing one out while watching you sleep but he did have his boundaries. He never watched you in the bathroom. Homelander snorts and chuckles to himself. Shows what happens when you play along with human morality, you tend to miss the good stuff.
“Showerhead? Or do you have one of those toys suctioned to the wall of the shower so you can fuck away at it.” He teases before inserting two of his thick gloved fingers. You’re too wet for much friction but the stretch makes you cry out in shock. He knows it must be so intense for you. Especially with how fucking tight you are. “Hmmm I don’t think it’s the second one. I can barely even stuff a couple fingers in you.”
“Fuck!” You sob and the curse feels like a victory. John’s never heard you cuss like this. He reaches down with his free hand to unclick his belt and pull his cock out. He stokes in time with the throbbing of your clit under his tongue.
“That’s it. Show me how filthy you are” He growls.
He curls his fingers and he rapidly has to remove his hand from his cock to steady you before you buck off the couch. Your legs are shaking. He isn’t even close to being through with you. John is just going to have to wait his fucking turn.
“So good!” You cry out and it’s like a shockwave to his system. “You’re so good. Feels so good.”
Homelander moans like a whore into your clenching cunt. Your praise hitting something devastating inside him. His grip on you flexes and his cock bobs. He sucks on your clit again just to hear it. He softens his kisses till they’re teasing and playful instead of the all consuming overwhelm like before. You tug his hair pleasantly and he hums.
The air feels thick as reality starts to melt a little at the edges. Each desperate compliment that falls from your lips has him feeling like he’s in a dream. He’s far away and up close all at once. The warm weight of your legs on his shoulders is soothing. He scissors his fingers, stretching you out further as he laps at your clit.
“You’re so good to me.” You sigh and the air swims. He nips at your thigh, sucking a bruise to match the one from his pinch earlier. Something inside him is aching to be rougher, firmer, meaner. It’s tempting. But he doesn’t want to treat you like that. You’re better than all those other vermin. You deserve to be worshiped.
“So pretty.” His moan is muffled by your pussy. “Pretty and mine.”
“Homelander!” You cry out and he holds you gently but firmly as you writhe.
You come hard under his tongue and he pumps his fingers as he milks you of your release. He presses his tongue flat to your clit to feel you shudder and your moans are like music to his ears. You taste so fucking good, better than anything he could have imagined on his own. He laps against you lazily as he tries to prolong this dream as much as possible. He doesn’t want to face the way he left you. He wants to be your good boy just like this.
He licks his lips and sighs. He waits for that uncomfortable ache of returning to reality, of having to leave this cozy escape he’s found himself in. His mirror self is probably still handling everything. But as he catches his breath it occurs to him that this feels all too realistic. He doesn’t remember anything when he hides. It’s always a blip in lost time and he’s back. Why is he dreaming now?
A horrifying realization hits him.
He scuttles backward and your legs hit the floor with an ominous thump. You stare at him dazed and a swirling mass of anxiety builds in his stomach. What did he do to you? Did he…? Did you…? What if you didn’t want…? He shakes his head and shrinks away from your increasingly concerned stare.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…” His words stutter. He’d been so good for you for so long. Now he’s ruined it all. He shouldn’t have ran. He should have been brave. He should have been good.
“Homelander?” You say softly, you shakily stand from the couch and wobble over to him. You crouch and reach out to cradle his head in your hands. He can’t meet your eyes. He’s terrified of what he’ll find. His chin is still soaking and it causes his cock to twitch despite his best efforts. He suddenly reaches down to fumble with putting his cock back in his pants upon realization of his exposure. An embarrassed tear almost escapes before it’s tenderly wiped away by your thumb.
“My Homelander.” You say so fondly that he can’t help but meet your eyes. He doesn’t expect what he finds. You’re looking at him like he hung the moon, all dewy eyed and soft. You look at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.
“I…” He manages to choke out but even that dies in his throat.
You practically tackle him as you pepper his face in kisses. You don’t seem to mind the taste of yourself as you press your lips everywhere you can. Your previous anger over the storm seems to have dissolved in your eagerness to see him. Once he’s over his shock, he wraps his arms around you as tight as he can and tries not to cry in relief.
You aren’t angry. You don’t hate him. He’s yours.
“Told you I’d take care of it. Don’t fuck things up with her again.”
“I won’t.” He whispers fervently into your shoulder.
“I might not let you have her back next time.”
Homelander is too busy loving you to think too much about the implications of that. All he knows is that he’ll never doubt that voice in the mirror again.