FIRST THINGS FIRST: THIS IS AN 18+ ACCOUNT, NO MINORS ALLOWED!!! NO AI USE!!! FUCK AI!!!
- dez - 24 - she/they - tears in my latina eyes - cali - film student - horror - slut for fictional men -
insta: st4rrstrruck (semi-active)
MASTERLIST
current crushes:
- homelander/antony starr
- nathan drake/nolan north
- tommy miller
feel free to request anything, will make it known if i am uncomfortable
a/n: i am in no way an expert in yeehaw things, so excuse the inaccuracies and such, this story is just for the lols. i just wanted to roll around in a dirty cowboy fantasy for a sec, and who can really blame me
summary: narrowing his eyes, he let your poor fiancé stew a moment in his terror before finally muttering, “alright… I’ll tell you what,” he slowly took a step closer, “I don’t trust as far as I can throw you,” Joel growled, “so I’ll keep a little something as leverage so that I know you won’t go running that rotten mouth of yours,” his grip on you tightened slightly, “if what you claim is true, then I’ll gladly drop your pretty little bride off at the nearest saloon after I’ve gotten my gold,” he vowed calmly, “but if it’s not, well… then I guess you won’t be getting married anymore… unless, of course, corpses are your thing.”
warnings: outlaw!joel miller x innocent!reader, fiance!dark!din djarin, smut, wild west au, historical au (1894), enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, guns, alcohol consumption, crying, first kiss, loss of virginity, outdoor sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex
word count: 5366
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2025
It all happened so fast.
One moment you were walking arm in arm with your old pops through the dusty town towards a rickety church, and the next, some big, gruff bandit had popped out from around a corner and bashed the bud of his gun against your father’s temple, knocking the poor fellow clean out.
“Don’t scream,” the man grunted as he swiftly shifted to point the gun at you. Briefly, he aimed it at your trembling visage before he instead grabbed ahold of your frame, his dirty hands surely staining the purity of your wedding dress.
“Please don’t hurt me,” you gasped as he grabbed your arm.
“Shh, shhh, it’ll all be fine,” he discreetly pointed the weapon at your ribs, “just do what I say, and you’ll be okay,” he promised darkly before his worn boots began to shift once again.
As he escorted you the rest of the path you were already on, you tried to steal a glance over your shoulder at your father’s unconscious form, “why are you doing this?” tears stung at the periphery of your vision.
“Nothing personal, darlin’,” he muttered against the shell of your ear as you came upon the church, “it’s just business.”
As he kicked the door open, the gun was redirected at your temple before he began to walk you down the aisle.
The music that had swelled at your arrival promptly fizzled out as everyone assessed the severity of the situation, though all became petrified to make a move.
“Howdy there, Djarin,” the outlaw casually greeted your fiancé at the end of the humble church, standing beside the preacher, his pale features worsening by the second, “beautiful day you picked here for a wedding.”
“Miller!” Din gasped, his wild eyes briefly fluttering to the silent tears streaming down your face before his glare settled back upon the crook, “you’re–”
“Still alive?” Miller filled in with the cock of his eyebrow, “you know, if you’re gonna play with fire, you gotta do it right, have the guts to stand there and watch everything burn, not run off before the job is done.”
“Please, Joel,” your fiancé raised up both of his hands in a plea, “we can work this out, just put down the gun.”
“Give me the fucking money,” Joel instead growled, “I know you have it, so hand it over. It’s the very least you can do after everything.”
“I–…” Din hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering to your horrified features before he uttered, “I can’t.”
A scoff promptly rumbled in the outlaw’s broad chest, “no, yeah, that part is crystal clear to me. You don’t wanna give me a single dime of what you owe me, you greedy bastard.”
“No, I mean that I can’t,” he admitted, “I–…I don’t have it…”
“You–, fucking hell…” Joel swiftly sighed, his head momentarily bowing as he swallowed the harsh reality, “alright,” he then murmured before his thumb cocked the revolver aimed at your head.
“Wait! Wait!” Din instantly panicked at the bone-chilling click, his palms soaring up further in a feeble attempt at halting the criminal, “gold! I–I have gold!”
Joel’s eyes narrowed to a squint before he muttered, “fine, I can work with that,” before he briefly gestured with the barrel of his gun, “go get it.”
“It’s not here, it’s in a mine out west.”
“Seriously?” Joel groaned.
“At least worth double of what I owe you, I swear.”
“So, let me get this right,” the outlaw took a single step closer to your fiancé, dragging you with him, “you want me to believe that you’re sitting on a goldmine and that I should just freely waltz into said mine and pluck out what’s rightfully mine? I’m not a fucking idiot. You just want me out of your hair so that you can run off to the sheriff.”
“I’m not lying, it’s real!” Din swore, “I hired a crew just last week to go out there and break ground!”
Narrowing his eyes, he let your poor fiancé stew a moment in his terror before finally muttering, “alright… I’ll tell you what,” he slowly took a step closer, “I don’t trust as far as I can throw you,” Joel growled, “so I’ll keep a little something as leverage so that I know you won’t go running that rotten mouth of yours,” his grip on you tightened slightly, “if what you claim is true, then I’ll gladly drop your pretty little bride off at the nearest saloon after I’ve gotten my gold,” he vowed calmly, “but if it’s not, well… then I guess you won’t be getting married anymore… unless, of course, corpses are your thing.”
“Wow…” Joel side-eyed you each time you squirmed at every little sound that the night out on the prairie brought, “you really aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No,” you scoffed, slightly offended, “I’m from New York.”
Tying you up with itchy ropes, the outlaw had made you walk beside his horse all during that first day, making you feel like your blistering feet might snap clean off by the time that he had finally stopped for the night. It was right beside a little creek that he had lit a fire. Securing the end of the rope around his own wrist, Joel had settled back against a tree, his other palm hovering against his wide-brimmed hat to tilt it down to shield his eyes from the glow of the small bonfire.
“New York?” his brows knitted together, “well, what in the hell is a city girl like you even doing with a fella like him?”
“Excuse me?” you narrowed your eyes in your kidnapper’s direction.
“Why would he travel all the way up to there just to find a wife? Is there something wrong with him?”
Your mouth promptly fell open at his rude accusation, “nothing’s wrong with him!”
“Other than the obvious, you mean,” he tilted his head.
Still not believing one bit why a ruffian like him would so fiercely loathe a gentleman such as your darling fiancé, you simply rolled your eyes and shared defensively, “my aunt lived down here, and when she passed, I attended the funeral. Turns out, he also knew her, so that was how we became acquainted.”
“Oh, so you met him and then just didn’t leave?”
“No, I went back,” you told him, “but then, not too long after, he travelled all of the way up to New York, just to return a handkerchief I’d misplaced. Or well, that and to ask my father properly for my hand in marriage,” you smiled softly at the memory, “he knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to travel halfway across the country to get it. Takes a certain amount of gumption, and that is admirable if you ask me.”
But instead of swooning at your tale, “no,” Joel instead muttered, “that’s just creepy,” he stated, and when your expression then soured, as if he had just slapped you across the face, he briefly tilted closer to point out, “Miss, the guy hunted you down like a prized cattle.”
“Excuse me, but I don’t think you have any place talking to me about etiquette,” you swiftly motioned to the ropes that restricted your movements.
A sigh then flowed from the cowboy as he sloped back against the tree trunk, “…look, I may not be a gentleman,” he stated gruffly, “but just know that I have a hell of a reason for doing all of this…”
When you woke again the next morning, the sight that met your eyes as soon as you fluttered them open caused you to instantly draw in a sharp breath.
Standing on the edge of the nearby stream, you spotted Joel. Dusty button-down tossed to the side, his suspenders, which usually stretched over the dirty white henley he typically wore beneath, hung low and dangled around his thick thighs as he dipped down to splash some more water against his now bare torso. Back turned to you, you watched as the water droplets cascaded down his spine and over the long and gnarly burn scar that marked most of his back, the bottom of it disappearing into the waistband of his sturdy trousers.
When he finally finished bathing and he turned back around, his eyes instantly caught your hypnotised ones, before you heard yourself ask, almost in a whisper, “how did you get that?”
Tugging his undershirt back over his burly frame, he simply grunted in return, “I don’t think you wish to know that answer, Miss…”
Though being ambushed by some bandits on the road wasn’t exactly what you’d had on your wish list, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as it granted you just enough of an opening to make for your escape.
However, just as you tried to climb back on the spooked horse, which the outlaw had recently begun to let you ride on with him during the long days on the prairie, you made the grave error of glancing back over your shoulder.
The last remaining bandit had managed to pin Joel down against the dirt, his hands tightly wrapped around your kidnapper’s throat.
Tightening your grasp on the reins, at first your body simply slowed down, but then when you watched Joel’s limbs grow sluggish in their attempts, your frame fully stopped, a sharp curse instead flowing from your lungs as you then found yourself picking up a medium-sized rock nearby before, with all of your might, you brought it down over the back of the opponent’s head.
Though it didn’t knock him out, the blow did stun the guy just enough for his fingers to let go of Joel’s neck, and grant him the opening to slip in and finish the job, clocking him in the face till he passed out cold and joined in the state of the other bandits surrounding them.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you found your feet glued to the ground.
Coughing briefly, Joel panted as well as he picked himself up onto his knees. Locating his hat, he dusted it off and placed it back upon his head before he even offered you a glance, “…now, why in the hell would you do a thing like that?”
“A simple thank you would suffice,” you glared back at him as he rose to his feet once more. It wasn’t till now that your regretful actions truly hit you, “fuck…” you hissed quietly and bowed your head just in time to watch as the outlaw caught onto the ropes around you once more. Even without them around your limbs, an escape in the constricting wedding dress you still wore would have been a task and a half.
But then as you waited for him to tether the end of the ropes back around his wrist, you instead watched as the outlaw suddenly began to loosen them.
As you blinked up at him with wide eyes, he simply uttered, “thank you, Miss,” his eyes not meeting your own as he continued to take the ropes off till they snaked from your frame completely.
“Sir,” you stayed vigilant, “what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I can’t let you go yet,” he slowly coiled up the rope in his hand, “you don’t deserve this, none of this is your fault, but I can’t, not yet,” before his gaze finally met your own, “but maybe we could come to an agreement of sorts.”
“An agreement?” your brows furrowed.
Sucking in a breath, he then exhaled, “if you promise not to pull something like that again, then I can agree to keeping these off for good.”
“I–…” you hesitated as your eyes flickered to the ropes in his hands, utterly stunned by the sudden discovery of his good side.
“What? Would you rather stay tied up?”
“No, it’s just–, well, since we’re striking a deal,” you gnawed at your inner cheek, “could I perhaps have something else as well?” you asked, and when a look of confusion muddled his gruff features, you went on, “it’s just that we’ve been out here for days. I have been wearing this goddamn wedding dress for days. Have you ever tried sleeping in a corset? Have you even tried getting on and off a horse in this amount of lace?” you gestured to the dirty and tattered state of your gown.
Biting down on a smirk that threatened to show itself on his lips, he grunted, “can’t say that I have, Miss.”
And as he then began to shift back towards the horse to strap the rope back against the saddlebags, you continued, “I was thinking that maybe the next time we come across a town, we could stop by their tailor and–”
While you spoke, Joel then abruptly walked over to one of the unconscious men and began to rip off his clothing, “here,” he first tossed you the shirt.
For a moment, your eyes merely flickered between the button-down in your stunned grasp and Joel as he kept on stripping the man, “you can’t be serious.”
“Didn’t you just say that you needed clothes?” his fingers paused as he let out a groan.
“Well, yeah, but I can’t–,” you once again glanced down at the men’s shirt, “this isn’t exactly my type of clothing, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Well, I’m sorry that it isn’t spun of the finest silk this side of China,” he joked gruffly before chucking the rest of the apparel at you, “just put it on.”
Staring down at the fabric in your arms, you then quietly murmured to yourself, “…but I’ve never worn trousers before…”
Grasping a wide brimmed hat that had tumbled off one of the fellow’s skulls, Joel then closed the distance between you two and popped it down on your head, “here. This should help with the sun,” he murmured, before he then watched your gaze flicker down to the pile of clothing in your grasp, then expectantly back up at him, as he continued to stand directly in front of you, “right! Sorry,” it swiftly sank through to him, “I’ll turn around…” before his body twisted to grant you some privacy, though he still lingered near, just in case you decided to act out of turn, “just be quick before any of them wake up again…”
Your fingers were timid as they began to tug at your dust-wrecked white dress, although since you had needed help getting into it in the first place, attempting to take it off by yourself wasn’t an easy task.
“Could you maybe–, uhm…” you eventually asked, a mortified heat rising in your cheeks at your own words, “…help me out?” Joel then carefully turned back around, “I couldn’t even get into this on my own, so…”
“Right…” he uttered as you then slowly spun around for him to aid with the tight laces all along your spine.
Though since you were no longer facing him, you didn’t notice till it was too late when the outlaw pulled out a knife, and instead of pulling at the strings with his bare fingers, he sliced clean through them, his movements so swift that you didn’t even realise it till the sharp tip of his blade also cut through the laces along your corset.
“Oh my god!” you promptly yelped as your grasp instinctively soared up to keep your dress from dropping completely and exposing you further. Though as you gasped, the venom that formed on the tip of your tongue never saw the light of day, as your lungs suddenly were able to expand and properly fill up with oxygen for the first time in days.
“Anything else, Miss?” he murmured from behind you as his gaze lingered a moment longer on your bare spine as it shifted with each deep breath you sucked in.
“No,” the squeak hastily left your lips as you realised that this was the most indecent you had ever been in front of a man before, “thank you,” your cheeks heated up even further, “you can turn back around now!”
One day, when you’d reached the point of completely losing track of the time out in the wild, you stopped by a town to stock up on food and supplies.
It was humble in its size, with its sparse citizens being outnumbered by the cattle that roamed all along the outskirts, though even with the lack of people trampling the dusty main street, it still had a beating soul, from the fellow hiding from the ruthless sun in the shadows of a porch, his lazy fingers picking away at a banjo, to the local salon with its soiled doves that winked at everyone that passed.
Apparently, Joel was a regular at the establishment and trusted the girls not to tattle about his whereabouts during the one night you two stayed there. Though the outlaw still stayed ever so vigilant as he moved throughout the city, tugging his hat further down to obscure his face to any passersbys, so that they would recognise his likeness to all of the wanted posters scattered about town.
Though what you didn’t know was the dominant reason behind the brief pit stop, as in truth, being so near to you all day long, having your soft body pressed against his chest as you rode on the same horse, had driven the gruff man so much up the wall that he desperately sought out some other kind of release, as to not make the grave error of shooting his shot with someone like you.
Though when one of the girls whisked him upstairs, you passed the time around the rest of them, and in the process, spilt a few too many secrets of your own, as the vulgarity that you had been plunged into was enough to make them all crystal clear on your face.
It didn’t take long for the girls to grasp the opportunity and flood you with a bucket worth of tips and tricks, however when you had a tough time comprehending just how the intimate details worked, instead of talking your ear off further, they grabbed you by the arm and dragged you upstairs, till your eye was wide directly on the other side of the keyhole to the room that Joel was occupied in, granting you more than a clear visual aid, to say the least.
Some of the folks in the salon even thought your purity a little too intriguing, a few even offering to pay a small fortune for it. But before your cherry could be auctioned off, by then, Joel thankfully descended the staircase just in time to drag you out of the fray with your virginity still intact.
Joel usually still tethered a piece of rope between both of your bodies during the nights while you slept, though this night in particular, it almost seemed as if the outlaw had forgotten the precaution entirely.
Earlier that day, he had taught you how to shoot, after yet another encounter with some unsavoury types, had warranted the lesson, so you could feel more prepared in whatever the prairie may spring on you, whether it was man or beast.
Lowing one of the bottles, that he had picked up in town, after he’d taken another swig, Joel then abruptly tilted it in your direction, the dark liquor within sloshing at the movement, “you want some?”
Shifting your gaze away from the bonfire before you to eye the flask, your stare then gradually narrowed, “oh, I don’t know… I’ve never really drunk before.”
“Really?” Joel’s dark brows floated up, “never?”
“Well, my father was never a fan of liquor, so no, I haven’t,” you shrugged faintly.
Glancing over his shoulder, he then murmured, “I don’t see your daddy around here nowhere,” before extending the bottle further in your direction.
Grasping the bottle, you stared down the narrow opening for a moment before you took a sip, though the strong whisky burned your tongue the instant that it filled your mouth, immediately prompting you to cough raggedly.
“Wow, alright,” a chuckle escaped him as he swiftly helped tilt the flask back down so that you didn’t drop it during your small fit, “maybe take a smaller swig next time.”
“Oh my god! That’s awful!” you wheezed, your face screwed up as you glared down at the bottle, “how do you enjoy that?”
“You get used to the taste,” he tilted his head, “plus, the more you drink, the easier it goes down,” he told you, though that lesson only pushed you to snatch the flask back into your grasp, “wait, that’s not what I meant–, alright…” he swiftly gave up as you took another sip, letting you have your fun no matter how sick you might make yourself from it.
Passing the bottle back to the cowboy beside you, the flames before you flickered and crackled, though as you stared into the fire, you felt as another one began to ignite within your chest with every sip you took, making you slightly dizzy and giggly the higher the moon rose in the night sky.
“Can I ask you something?” out of the blue, you eventually blurted.
“I guess,” Joel grunted slowly as his eyes briefly flickered to your faintly swaying frame beside him.
“…those scars on your back…” your sentence crumbled as you poked, and you let yourself peek at the tip of the mark that stretched up and out of the neckline of his shirt.
Gathering what you were trying to utter, he then slowly cut in before you could manage to find the words, “handiwork of your little fiancé…” a breath filled his lungs as he bowed his head, “just one of the many reasons why I gotta do this.”
Tearing your gaze away from his broad back, your eyes flickered to his cold expression, “…Din did that to you?”
“He hired me and my crew for a job a while back, a big one that would have been able to change all of our lives. But then instead of paying us, he just locked us up in an abandoned building and set it ablaze… I was the only survivor…” his head dipped as he told you, “…took me a long time to track him down again. Flashy as he may be, the fucker can really hide when he wants to… but, now that I think about it, it was probably because he wasn’t down here at all. He was hunting you down on the other end of the country…” his gaze found your own, “in a way, you kind of helped me find him again.”
“How?”
“Well, the wedding,” he cocked his head, “news of that spread like wildfire…”
“Right…” you slowly averted your eyes. You had all but forgotten about that by now. In fact, you hadn’t really thought about the man who had nearly become your husband for a spree of days, if not weeks.
“…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to truly get revenge for what he did,” he stared into the flames flickering before you both, “but I at least have to try…” he murmured quietly before his eyes once more offered you a glance, “…I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, but at least you got to know who he really was before you got stuck with a ring around your finger. I mean, unless you still want to marry him, which wouldn’t be any of my business. We can’t control who we fall in love with…” his gaze continued to pierce your soul, “no matter how wrong they may be for you, matters of the heart aren’t always something you can overrule…”
“…I don’t know what I’ll do after all of this…” you then inhaled deeply, “I mean, I know that I can’t go back to him, but that’s about the only thing that I know…” your stare flickered down to the half-empty bottle of liquor balanced on the ground, “I don’t think I could go back home to New York either. I’m not the same person anymore, I’ve changed too much… but if I stay down here, what are the chances that he’ll find me again and just make me go through with it all so that I finally become his property?” your gaze once more reunited with Joel’s, “like you’ve said, he’s tracked me down before, and that was halfway across the country, not in his own backyard…”
In the heat of the moment, before Joel even had time to think his actions through, he reached out, drew you in, and collided his lips against your own.
Though you were stunned for a moment, clumsily clawing to catch up to the frenzy he’d snapped into, it didn’t take too long for you to also start kissing him as if you had been drowning and he was your first gasp of air.
Though when you found yourself crawling closer, into his lap and clinging onto his frame, Joel suddenly woke back up and realised what he had done.
“Oh god,” he yanked away from you, “I am so sorry, Miss. I–…”
But instead of shifting away from the outlaw, your fingers drifted up to cup his bearded cheeks, “for what?” you planted a soft peck upon his lips.
“I–…Miss…” he struggled in between the gentle kisses you offered him, “…please, you should really stop before–…”
“Before what?” you caught his eye, your own wide with genuine curiosity.
Drawing in a controlled breath as he gazed back at you, he uttered, “before I lose control again and do something that I shouldn’t.”
“But, I–… Joel…” your frame was nearly buzzing as you sat there, balanced in his lap, “oh god… what is it that you do to me…” your fingers tightened in his shirt as you continued to stare into his eyes, “I don’t understand it… what is this? How do you–…”
And it was in that moment that Joel finally realised that you somehow felt the same for him as he did for you.
Melting under your flustered stare, he then drew you in closer and uttered, “oh, darlin’…” his head bowed till his forehead rested against your own. It took a long moment for him to part his lips once more, though when he did, his murmur didn’t clear up your confusion, “…what if you stayed here with me?”
Brow knitting together, you tilted back just enough to catch his eye, “you wanna keep me as your prisoner?”
“No,” his head shifted from side to side in a gentle shake, “I just wanna be with you…”
Sucking in a breath, a smile promptly bloomed on your lips before you echoed, “…I wanna be with you too…”
As Joel then fervently kissed you again, you swiftly threw your arms around his neck as you felt his silky tongue dance against your own.
Though as your hips began to rock down against his hard lap, a desperate whimper couldn’t help but form on your lips.
“God…I–…” your eyes fluttered as you absentmindedly continued to grind down against him, both of his palms digging into your hips, “…I-I need more, please,” you helplessly begged, not really comprehending what it was that your body was pleading for.
“Oh, yeah?” his gravelly tone tickled your skin in between smouldering pecks, “more of what? What do you need?”
“I don’t know… just, more…” you panted, your eyes fluttering shut as the outlaw began to kiss down your neck, “…I don’t understand what’s happening, what this is that you do to me… feels like I’m on fire or something… is that wrong? What is it?”
Catching your jaw in his palm, he tilted it back to catch your dazed eyes, “oh, sweetheart…” he uttered as a soft smile bloomed on his lips, “that’s anything but wrong…”
Twisting you around till your spin melted back against Joel’s burly chest, he continued to hold your gaze over your shoulder as his fingers dipped down over the front of your trousers.
As he began to pet your cunt lightly through the fabric, smirking as your mouth fell open in a gasp, he then asked, “has no fella really never touched you?” his caress found the buttons on your pants, gently ripping them open before stuffing his hand down the loosened waistband for your pussy to soak his fingers, “not even your little fiancé?”
“No…” you purred as his rough fingertips ghosted over your throbbing clit, “…I think he tried to kiss me once, but my father walked in on us before anything happened…”
Blinking hard, the cowboy then uttered, “wait, you mean to tell me, that was your first–,” before he cut himself off and simply let out a warm exhale, “oh, darlin’…”
As he cradled you in his lap, he briefly paused to yank your trousers off entirely, before his touch then returned to your cunt, rubbing it till you trembled atop of him. Peeked over your shoulder to catch sight of your glistening pussy, he soon let his digits dip down to tease your leaking entrance, tracing the quivering opening before you felt him stuff a finger inside.
The root of his rough palm rubbed against your puffy pearl as he buried another digit inside, curving and rocking them inside of you till you felt as if a tether inside of you snapped and a sensation you hadn’t even dared to imagine prior exploded within you, making your entire frame quake atop of his as a loud moan tumbled from your lips.
Recalling the sins that you had spied on through the light of a keyhole, you then dared to reach for Joel’s fat cock before he had even fully freed it from his pants. Caressing it curiously as it throbbed between your legs, pressed flush up against your petals, your hips too rolled slightly, coating him in your mess. You didn’t even fully know if what you were doing was correct, but with the image of the outlaw’s dick buried in between the legs of a soiled dove flickering in your mind, you raised up your hips and nudged the tip of him against your opening.
Your whole body trembled as you sank down on it, the stretch making your toes curl in your boots, “o-oh my god…”
“Holy–,” he too gasped as he had expected you would have needed more guidance, “atta fucking girl,” his brawny arms curled around you as he split you open, his hand drifting up to tilt your head, tearing your eyes away from how his big cock slowly disappeared inside of you, to instead lock with his own hazy gaze.
Your panting lips were merely centimetres apart as your hot gasps and molten moans mingled and melted in the sliver of space between your faces.
With the fire crackling in front of you, Joel let one of his palms slide between your shoulder blades, while the other one scooped down under your knees as he folded you up and twisted you slightly against him.
And as your legs dangled over his flexing forearm and your cheek sloped down to rest upon his shoulder, the outlaw took over and began to move your frame in his arms, rocking you up and down, his hips even rolling beneath you to bury his cock that much deeper inside of you, letting the tip of him rut so far that it kissed your cervix, making you gasp each and every time.
Though when that dizzying edge began to near once more, tears did not only begin to well up in the corners of your eyes at the intensity of the overwhelming sensation, but your cunt too cried out around Joel’s fat cock as you unravelled.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he groaned as your pussy began to squirt messily around his girth, “that’s my girl....”
“Yeah…” star-eyed, you drooled against his collarbone as you blinked up at him, your cunt still weakly gushing as the outlaw’s ravenous efforts hadn’t ceased in the slightest, “…I’m your girl…”
Watching maul is healing something in me. I missed maul so much since I first watched clone wars finale in like 2020 back in my clone era when I made my first proper tumblr for writing fanfiction after upgrading from my high school wattpad account lmfao this is taking me back
Maul’s one of my favourite characters from Star Wars with one of my favourite stories, time to get back into him and sam witwer. Should I start writing for Star Wars again? It’s been years. I’m so rusty on my Star Wars knowledge 😭😭😭
⭑ Their Dirtiest Kinks - Nathan & Sam Drake Headcanons ⭑
In a sea of innocent kisses and domestic headcanons, it's easy to love the Drake boys at their softest. But lord knows after highly traumatic childhoods, multiple bullet wounds, and decades worth of combined time behind bars, there are other sides of our favorite treasure hunters that range... less than soft.
So, are you going to stay where it's safe? Or are you willing to see what's hiding under the brush?
Warning: Highly NSFT. Not your cutesy, girlie-pop step-sister's headcanons. If that ain't your jam, feel free to check out some innocent kisses and domestic headcanons, instead. ⭐
For the resident dirty girls/boys/etc, godspeed.
Nate:
Voyeurism.
As one could probably guess, our pretty boy Nate enjoys… being in the presence of beautiful things. Despite everything he feigns to camera, Nate is surprisingly bashful during sex. And there is a sense of relief when he can just sit back and enjoy someone beautiful, without needing to insert himself (literally). Catch him accidentally stumbling upon you bathing in a river mid-mission, or spotting you in his binoculars just when you’re hiding away under a tree somewhere to masturbate. He feels disgusting for it, shame courses through his blood, everything he was taught to internalize by the sisters. But the second you catch his eye and offer him a simple smile and whisper his name under your breath, is the moment his shaking hand is reaching down to unzip himself. He’s lost one too many expensive pairs of binoculars over the edge of a cliff after an overeager orgasm, though.
If you so allow him, he just might be inspired enough to sketch you mid-deed (over and over and over again). The hottest moment of his life was catching you in his tent after a thorough snoop, rubbing your clit and humping his pillow to your own pencil-sketched nudes.
Cuckolding.
Despite Nathan having flagrant jealousy issues, something inside him deliciously writhes to know other people want what he has— and are willing to bend over backwards and hold lifelong murderous vendettas against him over it. Force him to watch from the bedside chair, moan to him how good someone else’s cock feels, how you want him to learn whatever this other bozo is doing with his tongue, beg him to eat you out when you’re in reverse cowgirl— he’ll say yes every time, even if it means some other dude’s balls clapping against his chin. 😵💫 (Perhaps that bi streak is something you can encourage out of him… Challengers-style.)
If you get him deep enough into subspace, he just might be willing to eat their cum out of your pussy, too. Just don’t remind him of it in the morning.
But always, always, always make sure he’s the last one in. It’s not just about knowing that someone else wants his person, it’s about knowing that when all is said and done, his love always chooses him. It’s about knowing that he gives it better than anyone else does, and it’s about knowing that even if he can’t hardcore rage-fuck like these other fuck-heads, he can make you feel loved like no one else can. (And he can take your strap and give head better than any of them, too. ☺️😉)
Catch him twitching inside you the moment your side-partner negs him and commands that he fuck you harder from the bathroom.
On a similar note…
Snowballing.
As referenced above, Nate’s not against getting down and dirty to prove his devotion to you. Get him in the proper subspace— he’ll get there sooner if you treat him gently, but god knows our darling sugar loves it extra rough every once in a while— and he’ll do whatever you say. Go down on him, get him nice and foggy and soft, and he’ll just vaguely smile, a sudden hop of his eyebrows when you press in and kiss him with it still in your mouth. He might feign surprise, but something deep in him stirs to know he’s pleasing you by doing it. To follow directions so well. Watch as he shivers sweetly the moment you pry his soft lips open with your thumb to make sure he’s swallowed it all. Perfect opportunity btw to fishhook him while you ride him for round two.
Subspace/Mommy Kink.
You know this one was coming. I may be disgusting… but I’m also entirely accurate. While you might expect Sam to be the one— being the more outwardly-devoted-to-her-legacy and having been old enough to remember that feeling before it was taken away— Nathan is the one who secretly craves the feeling of being coddled and taken care of most. Hence why he ended up with Elena.
Although he spent a good deal of his life being taken care of by both Sam and Sully, their generally untrustworthy demeanors and constant jobs that took them away from him meant that Nate never really got to have that feeling or safe space of completely and totally trusting someone. To a certain degree, he always had to take care of himself. And even in adulthood, he's always the one expected to lead the call and take charge when things get rocky.
And as someone known to lose himself completely going after something beautiful, he secretly desires nothing more than to be in subspace— appreciated and loved specifically because of his mindless, all-consuming devotion, rather than punished for it, and finally taken care of and coddled by someone he knows he can be 100% safe with. The only time in his entire life he’s allergic to jokes. He craves all-earnesty, baby. Give it to him.
Stroke his waist from behind and whisper how proud you are of him while he’s washing the dishes, tug his hair and grit out “down, boy” when he gets too overeager ravaging your neck, even go so far as to get him a custom collar with your goddamn name on it— he’s putty in your hands, soft, thoughtless eyes roving yours for praise and instruction, going completely lax the moment you wrap your thigh around his neck and command him to eat everything you give him.
Sam:
Period Sex (... amongst other things).
After thirteen years in prison, with no women (not even a guard) to speak of, Sam is absolutely throbbing for as woman a woman as a woman gets. And this means nasty, sweaty, bloody, unedited women. Catch him begging to lick your pits or eat your ass or suck your toes or go down on you just when you started your period. Clean, pretty, camera-ready sex is the very last thing he wants. So if he begs for sex when you already know it’s a heavy flow, expect to receive nothing but evil grins and raised eyebrows (and blood clots stuck in his stubble a whopping two hours later).
Claims he needs the iron. 😏
Mirror Sex/Making you Watch.
Despite the seemingly unending bravado, Sam’s pretty insecure about the way he looks, and finds his own reflection a stranger— wondering why he doesn’t look twenty-eight when it’s the only age he feels. But Sam is the absolute opposite of a self-pitying wallower. When the insecurity comes on strong when he’s with a partner, he’ll encourage them to do so facing a mirror: whether that’s fingering you while he makes you sit in his lap, holding your head up by your hair to watch during doggy style, or a goddamn standing full-nelson. Something about physically watching someone as beautiful as you with someone like him drives him harder than he’s ever been, and puts every insecurity to rest. As if it’s fucking revenge against the universe for allowing what happened to him to happen. Make sure to give your neck a good stretch the next morning, otherwise it’s gonna be sore from him forcing you to watch him fuck you in mating press.
Wear those walls down enough, and you just might be able to convince him to film a sex tape with you. The day you suggested it might be the only time you’ve ever seen him shy.
Slapping.
As ‘misunderstood’ and ‘heart of gold’ as we like to say our resident motorhead is, I think we can all agree he’s got enough smothered rage under the surface to last several lifetimes. Perhaps unnecessary to say, but Sam Drake is a hardcore dominant above all else. From having zero control over his own life for fifteen years, to (likely - if what we’ve seen in-game is any indication) being physically beaten in prison, Sam has a strong desire to release all that pent-up energy onto others— and that frequently bleeds out in the bedroom. Once you’ve agreed to it and settled on a proper safeword, expect him to ask a plethora of rhetorical questions: “Whose pussy is this?” “Who’s my good girl?” “Who’s fillin’ you up like that, baby?” and if you don’t respond in time, too mind-fogged by pleasure? Smack! Smack! Smack!
Expect plenty of cool towelettes and more than a dozen kisses after. 😉
BONUS: Perhaps unlikely, but if you’re anything like OP with a night in with Sam, after one too many drinks, you juuuust might be able to make him confess that he’d like you to slap him. He knows how fucked it is, but maybe there’s something to returning to a painfully familiar deed with someone he knows he’s safe with. Maybe he feels he needs the punishment. Maybe he just wants an excuse to finally let himself cry. No matter the reason, know that it’s the highest possible honor for Sam to let you dominate him— and that hours of gentle aftercare are exactly what the (Sam Drake quotation fingers) “doctor” ordered.
Watersports.
This man is a dog, okay? He’s a dog, he’s a dog, he’s a dog, he’s your dog— and he’s an abandoned stray who likes staking his territory once he’s finally allowed it. He’s a man who feels broken and dirty after everything he’s been through, so it sends fire and relief up his skin like nothing else to know he can show the absolute worst, grossest part of himself to his partner, and they’ll still love him, anyway. Whether it’s a “whoops!” while he’s inside you, or actively on your face, he does so with the widest, sickest sneer you’ve ever seen. Good thing it’s just an excuse to get you in the shower with him for round two.
But don’t fret, darlin’, it goes both ways. Knowing that someone as beautiful as you is willing to share your worst, your darkest, your dirtiest with him, too, gets his heart racing. Makes him feel like he has a true equal. And it reminds him he’s not so awful, not so alone, and that maybe if beautiful things can be awful, then that means awful him can be beautiful, can be forgiven, too.
18+ Only | 8.2k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Unspecified Season. Homelander deals with body insecurity (amped the fuck up). A looot of kissing. Established Relationship. Some clunky sex. Silly banter. Body worship. Bath scene (i had to...). If you squint really hard there's Mirrorlander.
Summary: Homelander's used to rushed touches and fast finishes. It's a self-defense mechanism; if he keeps his partners in the high throes of passion they won't get the chance to rethink his involvement. His world is turned upside down when you tell him to slow down.
Author’s Note: This is very much inspired by @blindmagdalena's post from a while back. I've just recently picked up this WIP and ran with it. And here we are now! I had SO much fun writing this. It arguably did not need to be this long for the premise but I had fun so yay. Also this is note beta-ed, don't tell me about all the mistakes you'll find. Also photo unrelated, he's just cute.
Movie nights never stay innocent for very long with Homelander around—no matter how many times you insist on doing things beyond just having sex.
While you take these moments to show him media outside of the Vought Cinematic Universe, hoping to introduce him to things that have not been Vought approved, Homelander is instead counting down the minutes til it’s appropriate to grope you. Very soon the movie of your choice loses his interest, and Homelander is spending the runtime observing you. Watching you. Feeling you next to him.
He thinks you’re oblivious to this but secretly you simply enjoy dragging out his torture for as long as possible. You feel his gaze burning into you, eyes undressing each part of you he can easily ogle. It didn’t take long for you to stop caring about how you looked under your clothes. If he wants to look where he’s not meant to he’ll have your worn out underwear where the print has long washed out and crumbled to deal with on his own.
For the last twenty minutes you’ve caught him either staring or groping; or a combination of both. You’re sitting by his side, legs thrown over his now bouncing legs while you rest against the arm of his gaudy couch. He’s always like this—a pulled bow string, quivering with the thrumming energy ready to release. His gloved hand rests on your knee, slowly itching up and up and up until he can freely squeeze the meat of your thigh.
You observe as he lets out a little sigh, his attention torn between the movie and watching his gloved fingers squeeze and release your flesh. It’s like he’s transfixed by the motion of something living and breathing, voluntarily occupying the space next to him.
It’s your turn to stop caring about the movie when you catch his brows furrow as his eyes go up from your thigh to your chest. This time it doesn’t feel like he’s staring underneath the cups of your bra. No, he’s looking deeper. Watching the steady beat of your heart thumping under your ribs.
“Hey, you okay?” You tear him out of his thoughts with a soft cradle of his jaw. Your thumb brushes over his military style clean shaved jaw. You’ve never felt anything beyond the slightest prickle of his facial hair against your fingers or lips. At the same time, you’ve never witnessed him shave either. Sure, you’re usually catching up on some sleep he stole from you in the middle of the night and in the meanwhile he’s in the bathroom going through his morning routine. But sometimes it just feels like a yet another mystery to unveil.
All worry dissolves from his face and he shoots you a bright smile. All pearly whites with his characteristic fangs peeking at the corners. You can’t help but feel that while the joy is genuine, the smile itself appears performative; as if defaulting to a familiar expression while his mind battles itself.
“Never been better.”
Now that you’ve set off the first touch he takes that as a blanket permission to drop any pretense of paying attention to the movie. He grasps your wrist, pinning it back against the arm rest next to your head as he follows the same trajectory, leaning over your body to capture your lips.
Homelander doesn’t know the meaning of slow. He eagerly kisses your lips open, giving you his all and more. Always more.
Letting go of your wrist and lips he instead spreads your legs, wiggling himself in between them, leaning over your torso, stealing your breath once more.
With each kiss he takes more. He gives more. It’s always like that with him.
More. More. More.
“Mhmm.” Overtaken with feeling you warm and pliant beneath him, he huffs into the kisses. Muffled moans fall freely, getting trapped in between the press of your lips against his.
At first you don’t resist his urgent kisses. You do, however, do your best to to slow down his feverish lust that has since grown into a raging bonfire over the course of a few touches.
Try as you might, your fingers softly raking through his hair as he attempts to devour you whole do nothing to deter him. Homelander instead moans wantonly, not ashamed to show you how much he wants this. How much he wants you. He kisses down your neck, obscenely sucking wet and hot kisses down the smooth skin.
It’s barely been a few minutes and he’s panting against your skin with a frenzy you’re not sure a normal man is capable of. His tongue licks up your neck just as his hips jerk forward.
You gasp. Your head snaps back, eyes rolling back with how good that felt. The hard sharp pressure against your crotch sends a shiver down your spine. Homelander rumbles appreciatively, still abusing your exposed neck; licking and kissing his way up to your jaw, nipping softly.
His eyelashes flutter against your skin. Now dark with lust, his eyes seek yours out. Almost checking to see if you’re just as excited.
You encourage him by pulling his jaw in, kissing him unreservedly. Showing him your own little set of pretty whines as you do your best to steal his breath. It works marvellously. He’s eating out of the palm of your hand, letting you lead the kiss.
You make it messy, sloppy. Gripping the back of his head you pull him into open-mouthed kisses. He grinds into you gently each time your tongue swipes his. The taste of him is so intoxicating you start losing yourself in the heady kiss. All the thoughts swimming through your head from earlier gone. He’s kissed, licked and touched all of them away.
Homelander slides his hands underneath your top and that’s the first thing that takes you out of the moment. The leather of his glove, while warm, feels freezing compared to the blazing temperature of your body.
He’s greedily squeezing your tits with both hands, squishing the bra cups and pushing your top all the way up to your armpits. While feeling him squeeze you and press against you feels good, it would feel a hell of a lot better if you weren’t surrounded by leather.
The leather couch is uncomfortably sticking to your back now that he’s pulled your top up. You feel like screaming.
Those stupid fucking gloves.
You’ve always wondered how much he gets out of being in the suit all day. Feeling his gloved hand roaming under your shirt is a perfect example of this. He can’t feel your body’s heat through the glove yet he’s acting as if your skin was gliding down his palm.
You wiggle your hands in between your bodies. Pushing flat-palmed at his chest. It doesn’t make him budge an inch, and he continues kissing you down your neck again when you stop giving his needy lips the same attention.
He’s… determined, to say the least.
He’s quickly losing all sense of time and space when he ignores your humble attempt at a shove. He’s too concerned with juggling making out and groping you. The teenage boy-like clumsiness of chasing the pleasure of a well-placed touch would be endearing any other time. But you want him to slow down. You want to appreciate each touch in its entirety. You don’t want to forget the feel of him in the whirlwind of his attempted speedrun. You want him to feel each kiss vividly. Not as just one more necessary step towards the finish.
You see it for what it is. During the short but electrifying time you’ve had together you’ve come to notice things about him.
He’s a very performative lover. Constantly raising the bar, making sure he doesn’t lose your attention for even a second. It’s clear he’s learned to be worried about the love he receives. Worried that as soon as he stops performing he loses you. Loses your attention. Worried that as soon as your senses aren’t being bombarded with pleasure you’ll have time to think about this. This relationship. Him.
He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand that he craves reassurance. With each kiss he begs and begs and begs you to not leave. Don’t go. Kiss. Don’t leave me. Kiss. Don’t leave me like the others. He says with each touch, squeeze and kiss.
He moans and whimpers, outwardly appreciating the act. Because that’s what you want right? You want to know that he’s enjoying himself, that you feel good. That he enjoys making you feel good. He gives and takes more each time he touches you.
He doesn’t want you bored, complacent, uninterested.
So, he performs.
His act is still of the hero you’ve seen in commercials, news programs, and magazines. So the suit stays on, the hero's smile never wavering, the kisses never-ending, touches endlessly scorching.
Of course he’s never told you this. You’ve been around him long enough to deduce this yourself. And while you were never sure how correct you were of your assessment of him, all your suspicions come true when you stop him.
You keep your hands on his chest, this time pushing with all your might. “Wait, wait, wait. Slow down a little.” You deliver your line with a chuckle as you catch your breath, not wanting him to feel rejected.
It has the opposite effect. Homelander’s hands come off your body as if burned. He lets your tits go, instead propping himself with his hands on the armrest, each one on either side of your head. “Wha—what’s wrong?” He blinks in a rapid succession as if he was rewinding the whole make out session to see where he’s gone wrong.
“Oh no, nothing! Nothing’s wrong.” You quickly attempt to soothe his ego, hugging his jaw with your palm. And the desperate for affection wounded animal that he is he immediately leans in, enjoying the feeling for a second with his eyes closed before the immersion breaks and he looks at you, demanding an explanation.
“I just wanted to slow down. You always go so fast.” The light-hearted chuckle that follows your words still does nothing to ease the learned tension in his body.
“So?” As soon as he realizes he didn’t cause a major offense he’s back on you. “You feel good.” With a hot breath he kisses another wet patch into the side of your neck. “You make me feel good.” And another one. Dragging his tongue up to your jaw. “I make you feel good.” And while you’re trying to make a point, your body doesn’t particularly care about your thoughts when his thick wet tongue makes your skin tingle with each lick.
“Why should we stop?” He huffs out, grinding himself into you. You feel the rigid outline of his cup digging into you. It feels good. Having something hard grinding into your clothed pussy has always felt good. But knowing you’re rubbing yourself against his suit and not the surely hard outline of his cock is what snaps you out of that mind-melting pleasure.
“Because,” you drag out in between a moan. You feel his lips tug into a smile against your neck. He’s well pleased with being able to reduce you to trembles and moans. You push him away a little again, just enough to separate his lips from your neck. “I don’t want it to be over so soon.”
While you’re not commenting on his sexual prowess and more the pace he’s locked himself into he still squints his eyes, a flash of hurt crossing them before he finds his performative grin again. “Well then we’ll go again. And again, and again and again.” With each again he places a softer kiss on parts of your face; each cheek, your nose and ending up with a kiss on your lips. “As many times as my queen wishes.”
This you like. This you need. Really feeling each kiss, letting yourself ride the anticipation train. More importantly, you want that for him.
“Queen?”
He shrugs, “every king needs a queen.” You shake your head with a silent chuckle.
You mindlessly run your fingers through his hair as you meet his gaze. “Still, slow down a little, hm?” He grumbles in response, placing another kiss on your lips. Even though he’s acting grumpy, he’s listening. His lips linger on yours a touch longer. You really get to feel each eager quiver of them. Holding back from devouring you whole like he originally planned.
“Have you got anywhere to be today?” You ask when he lets your lips go. Homelander shakes his head, the loose strands of hair tickling your skin when he nuzzles into you.
“Look, how about you let me take the reins today? Wouldn’t that be fun? You always give it your all. Maybe… it’s time for you to sit back and enjoy yourself.” You try to sell it as if it was something he’d choose for himself. You make it sound like you’re rewarding him. And you will. Just not by immediately riding his dick like he expects you to from the way his hand goes down to squeeze your hip already imagining himself underneath you.
“Mhmm, bossy you is pretty sexy.” He purrs into your ear before immediately switching gears.
“Righty-o, up you go.” Although clumsily, Homelander swaps you with him. He plops you down on top of his lap, purring when he runs his hands up and down your hips, his head propped up by the arm rest. His lips part, as if he’s tasting the air when he looks right at your pussy through your clothing. Cheater.
“Wait, hold on. Not here, there’s barely any space.” Seeing the flag cape draped just off the side of the couch with him now lying down irritates you. You can’t wait to rip the whole thing off him. “Take us to the bedroom.”
“Really?” He’s amused, wearing the same expression one would after winning a lengthy discourse. He’s all wild glittering eyes and sharp grin, trying to unsuccessfully twist his expression into something semi-nonchalant as he gestures towards the TV. “What happened to watching a movie?”
He’s back to that wolfish grin, unable to hold back from the joy of winning a bet that he’s fabricated in his head. “You made suuuch a big deal about it earlier. Now look at you. Can’t wait to fuck yourself on my cock.” He purrs.
You roll your eyes but the gesture carries no actual irritation.
“Charming. Aren’t you a gentleman?”
“What can I say, it’s my brand. I’m all about chivalry and good manners.”
“Well take your chivalry and good manners and carry me to bed.”
“But babe, the movie.” His shit-eating grin makes you playfully roll your eyes again while shaking your head.
“Fuck the movie.” As this leaves your lips his grin turns into an excited, a more genuine one.
“Now we’re talking.” Homelander slots his hands under your ass, hoisting you up as he gets off the couch. The effortless handling never fails to make your stomach flip.
The scene of him carrying you to the bedroom while stealing away kisses is one from a romantic movie. After saving the world, the hero finally gets to rest with his love by his side.
The end.
Except for Homelander, the story is never over. He doesn’t hang up the cape. The persona stays on. Even you haven’t been able to figure out if there even is a part of him that isn’t so intrinsically intertwined with the Homelander persona.
But at the very least you can try to look behind the curtain. Or well, the cape.
Homelander drops you on the bed, kicking off his boots—courtesy of your constant nagging as he’d like to call it—before following you, hands and knees on either side of you. Immediately zeroing in on your lips as he leans in to steal another kiss from you.
You extend your arm, meeting his lips with your palm, halting their path with a muffled mmph. He quickly recovers, kissing the centre of your palm with an obnoxious mwah. To make matters worse, Homelander licks your palm.
“Ew, what’s wrong with you!” You let out with a squeak, instinctively pulling your hand back which Homelander takes as the golden opportunity to get his paws and lips all over you.
“You don’t usually say ‘ew’ to me licking you.”
“Well—that’s different!” You hate how easy it is for him to fluster you. “And hey, don’t forget it’s meant to be my turn. Come on, you agreed.” It can be pretty hard to pull yourself away from his needy touches but your pouty tone does the job for you. Putting on the voice of disappointment works wonders on getting Homelander to do what you want.
“Alright, alright, alright. Don’t get all worked up, jeez. I’m just playing.” Homelander wraps his arms around your middle and rolls with you on the bed, stopping when you end up on top. He folds his arms behind his head, propping it up a little to get a better look at you as you settle your knees on either side of his hips. “You make it sound like I committed a fucking crime. Maybe I missed the news. Is it now a crime to show my girl some sweet sweet love?” He wags his eyebrows obnoxiously.
Homelander grinds his hips up into you. He even has the audacity to make it look like a mistake with his downturned lips and raised eyebrows. Amongst the whole kerfuffle he still manages to keep the same levels of continuous arousal. You just feel like you’re missing out by not being able to see just how much he’s raring to go.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got a hero here to stop this crime from happening.” You place your hands on his chest, tapping on the textured fabric with all your fingers. “Pass me your hand.”
“Why, are you gonna fucking cuff me?” He says incredulously, trying to follow your train of thought.
“Of course not. I’m gonna take your gloves off.” You rubbed your hands up and down his chest as if warming him up for what’s to come.
“Really? This is stupid.” He clicks his tongue. “You know what hands look like.” He scrunches his face with disdain and confusion; eyebrows drawn tight, his lips spread into a grimace.
“I don’t know what yours look like.” You lean over him to pull in the nearby pillow, slotting it under his head when he slides both hands from underneath his head.
“Okay, I may be the one spewing bullshit in front of the cameras sure, but now that is a dirty lie.” You grasp one of his hands. He’s not normally this reluctant to at least get his gloves off but at this point his vision of how this was meant to go is not being met, staining the fake reality in his head.
“Sure fine, I have seen them before. Is it such a big deal that I want to see them again? They’re pretty.” You say sheepishly.
“Pretty?” He echoes.
“Yeah. You’ve got lovely hands.” That’s it. Compliments.
“Lovely… Is that what you’re going with? What about manly? Strong. Powerful. Now that sounds better.” He squeezes his fists when he rattles off his adjectives. You nudge him to open his hands again so you can pinch the leather off each digit, until you’re able to slide the entire thing off his hand. You do the same thing to the other hand as he continues listing words that he deems better suited.
“I think beautiful covers it.” You say as you gently trace a line across the top of his hand, turning it around where you draw circles inside his palm. “Powerful, strong, or manly doesn’t. You don’t have the crude—ugly—calloused strength. Yours is unmatched on a level unknown to man and still it leaves your hands looking pristine. So… beautiful.” You bring his hand up to your lips where you tenderly kiss the tip of each finger before gliding your softly parted lips across his first set of knuckles. His skin is baby soft. Your lips tingle with the soft brush, vibrating with the friction as Homelander’s fingertips twitch with each pass of your lips.
Homelander catches his breath. He wasn't expecting this. With such a gentle touch you've managed to fluster him. As if his system was abruptly shutting down, his expressions mimic his internal panic. His eyes blink rapidly, his lips parting and closing in a cycle. It takes a forced huff of embarrassment and forcing out a raspberry to regain his composure.
“Pfft, Christ, if this is your idea of going slow we're gonna be here a long fucking while.”
“Mhm,” you open his palm, pressing three kisses where you'd expect to feel callouses. But you don't. His skin is silky soft. “You did say you had the rest of the day free.”
“Right. So now that my gloves are off can we finally get on with it? I’m gonna get blue balls with the way you’re holding out on me. Have mercy on me, babe.”
“Again with the rushing. You said it yourself, you have nowhere to be but here. With me.”
“Hm, I’d just like to get there before sundown.”
“Well, I can’t promise you that.”
“Aha! Right, of course… you’re getting off on this.” He makes it sound so accusatory. How dare you find doing things with your boyfriend arousing.
“Not in the way you imagine.”
Homelander ignores your response and continues. “Unless you’re upset with me and this is your way of getting back at me. Did I do something wrong?”
“Stop overanalyzing this. I’m just trying to change things up.”
“So you do have an issue with the way things have been going.” He takes his hands back and pushes himself up on his elbows to see you better. This makes you wobble on his lap, nearly losing your balance. You watch as his whole face twitches. He’s desperately trying to keep control of his expressions.
“Stop going down this rabbit hole. Have I ever given you the impression that I am unsatisfied?”
“Maybe you’re a better actress than I thought.”
You frown, this is not going down the way you wanted. You lean forward and wipe the distrust off his face with a long and involved kiss. Touching your forehead to his once you pull apart. Though his lips are already insisting on another kiss.
“Listen to me. I love you so much. I-I honestly don’t even have words to describe this feeling. And you make me feel so good. Everyday is a blessing with you. You take care of me so well…” You give in to his demand and kiss him again.
“Let me take care of you today.” You exhale with a furrowed brow, a sense of need and urgency palpable enough to throw even Homelander off his whole dismissive play.
He only manages to nod, with his forehead still against you.
“Good boy.” You purr and push him back down. A little thrill runs through you when he bucks up against you, a lewd whine pouring from his lips. That’s a piece of knowledge that’s certainly getting put in your back pocket.
“Will you be good and let me take the cape off, pretty please?” It feels like you’re cheating when you’re met with the most conflicting expression you’ve ever seen on him. Both eager to please yet reluctant to lose a piece of the Homelander puzzle. The gloves were an offensive gesture enough.
With an annoyed huff he props himself up and unclips the cape from his suit. It helps that he never sits or lies on the damned thing. You pull it away from him with a grateful stroke down his cheek that he leans into, bunching it up on the other side of the bed.
“Have you no respect for this great nation? At least hang it up properly.” You roll your eyes and click your tongue in annoyance but you get off him to hang up the cape on his suit hanger. There are battles you’re willing to fight today and this isn’t one of them.
“There, happy?” You go back to straddling him.
“All things considered.” He dramatically waves his hands in the air before letting them fall back on top of the bedding.
“Alright, smartass.” You’re already liking this look. Piece by piece you’re slowly stripping the façade away.
Your earlier snarky tone makes way for softness. You run your hand up and down his chest. You press over the ridges of the suit, nails raking down the subtle eagle texture. You gently push into the soft pecs, feeling the material give. Your fingers slide to the edges of the front panel, playing with the clasp and feeling around the glossy red piping.
While you’re having the time of your life, Homelander is less pleased. Eager and frustrated he nearly spits out “Jesus just—fuck—ah, just fucking let me inside you.”
“Be patient, slow makes it more exciting.”
“You’re plenty wet already, I know you want it, how much more excitement do you need?”
“Hey, no snooping.”
“Can’t help it, it’s all I can smell. I can almost taste it in the fucking air. I can feel how much you want me.” His hands land on your hips, finding comfort in the familiar gesture. He rubs his bare hands under your top. The skin on skin contact on your waist makes your head spin.
“Well, I want to feel you too. You said you’d let me take the lead right?”
“You can feel me just fine and dandy.” He grinds into you to prove his point. Admittedly, it does force a little gasp out of you, but you’re not going to let yourself succumb to his foul play.
“No, I'm feeling your suit. I wanna feel you. Without it.”
“You’re being fucking ridiculous. Think I can’t tell how much your pussy aches when I grind into you?”
“Potty mouth.”
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
You take a deep breath and release a long sigh. During it, your hands travel from his chest up to his face where you cup his jaw. It’s become your favourite gesture to get his attention with.
“Let me love you all the way, honey. Let me feel you.” You kiss his lips softly but soundly. A couple times until he’s pliant enough that he’s sighing into the kisses and running his hands over your back.
“Fine.” It’s a short, curt answer but it will do. Just as you’re about to reach for the fastening of the top portion of his suit he stops you. You’re expecting to have to go into another tirade of endless begging but all he says is, “belt has to go first.”
You nod with a soft smile. He’s being so good for you. You won’t abuse this moment to make jokes or tease him for his caginess.
You’re not stupid. Your relationship is still fairly fresh, yet you both bull-rushed into it—head over heels. Still, he’s managed to keep a lot of sides of him hidden away from you. You don’t spend every night at his penthouse but when you do, he changes into his pyjamas when it’s dark or when you’re already in bed. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your partner feels insecure over his body.
Can’t say you blame him with the image he’s forced to uphold. It’s quite a tall order to meet the image people have in mind when they think of the strongest supe of all time. You know the suit is a façade. You just want him comfortable enough to let you peer behind it.
You unclasp the golden belt, the metal clicking loudly in the quiet room. You put it to the side after Homelander lifts his hips to let you slide it out from underneath him, this time without his snarky remarks about putting it in the right place.
You smooth down your hands over the previously unseen section. It’s nothing more than a strip of the existing fabric, but the tiny gap you see between the top and bottom of the suit has you ravenous, nearly salivating at the thought of feeling him skin-to-skin to you.
You don’t understand why he feels the need to hide this from you. He couldn’t be anything less than perfect in your eyes if he tried. You even tease the sliver of exposed flesh by dragging your fingertip across it. You can feel Homelander vibrate with unspent energy where he’s got his hands on you.
You’re just about to work on the top part of his suit but his intense grip circles your wrist. You snap up to meet his gaze and notice the pained expression. Your giddy excitement fizzles out and gets replaced by heart-aching sympathy. It hurts to see him suffer so.
He lets out an empty chuckle, attempting to distract you from his self-doubt.
“You know this isn’t… I don’t look like—”
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry, my love. If there’s one thing I want you to not worry about, it’s whether I find you attractive or not, okay? It’s a firm yes regardless.”
He nods curtly, his hand loosening around your wrist, before falling completely.
He aids you in taking the top part of his suit off; arms slipping out of the sleeves as he sheds the whole piece. You push it off to the side like the belt, surprised at just how heavy it really is.
When you look back down on him, you have to stop yourself from smiling too widely.
He’s perfect.
“Wow. In case there’s any doubt, it’s an even firmer yes now.” You can’t help but continue in line with your banter. You don't miss the way his cheeks tint pink at the comment.
You’re looking down at a very different figure without the suit. He’s slim, with very subtle muscle lines contouring his silhouette. You don’t understand what he was so worried about, he’s so much more pleasant to look at without the suit.
His shoulders—while tense—are beautiful, continuing down to arms that, no matter how large, could never portray the true extent of his strength. It makes sense. Without the suit in the way it’s like you can see the power just lying below the surface.
Your hands softly rest on his pecs. His torso is a beautiful, fuzzy chest leading into a surprisingly slender waist that has you blushing. Your fingers rake through the chest hair, gently applying pressure with your nails before swapping it around for your palms, dragging them down to his hips, feeling how buttery-smooth his skin feels. He has no blemishes, no scars.
While you’re having an incredible time exploring the parts of your lover that you’ve not been allowed access to before, he’s stuck in his own head, fighting a battle you’ll never have a chance of joining—let alone winning.
Being the strongest man in the world doesn’t bar him from requiring soft handling every once in a while. As tenderly as you can muster you whisper, “you still with me, honey?”
His eyes snap down from where they were looking into the ceiling mirror to yours.
“Mhm…” He sounds anything but convincing.
“Let’s get the rest of it off.” With little input from him, you pluck at the waistline to pull the pants down, equally awkward and heavy garment joining the pile of the rest of the suit. His legs are slimmer than the suit would make you believe—unsurprisingly. His thighs, while slim, have enough meat on them to make you want to bite into him. You wonder what his reaction would be.
Not to be left behind, you take your own clothes off, matching him by still leaving your underwear on.
You grind yourself against him, he’s certainly let anxiety dispel some of his usual crazed arousal but he’s still semi-hard for you.
“Wanna talk to me?” Usually when you’re on top of him, eagerly grinding against his cock he’s on you. You take his hands off your waist, pulling them with you and pinning them above his head when you lean in to kiss his neck. Slow but steady kisses lead down to the juncture of his neck, where you ever so slightly whisper, “or would you like me to do the talking?”
You can’t help but smile against his neck when you feel him get hard again and buck up into you.
“Mhmm, I love this.” You kiss down from his neck to his chest, your arms broadly stroking all available bare skin—from his tight shoulders to his arms. “You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his soft chest, strangely enjoying the soft fuzz smattering his pecs. You’ve only ever seen his pubes—which he tends to keep neatly trimmed—so it’s almost surprising to see the rest of his body hair. You’ve decided that you’re a fan.
“Is it weird to say that I really like your chest hair?” You say with a charmed little chuckle. You pull yourself up so you can see into his eyes, your hands never stopping their exploration of his upper body.
“You’ve said plenty of strange things before.” He dismisses it, it’s the first time he’s spoken in a while. His voice is uncharacteristically weak.
“Well… I really, really like it. Can you tell?” God, how is this getting to you so much? You feel your own cheeks warm just as his do. You’d be lying if you said his reactions didn’t make you throb and ache.
“It’s so soft… You gotta let me sleep on your chest from now on.”
“Anything you want.” His voice has a breathless quality to it that you find terribly endearing. It’s such a departure of what you’re used to with him.
“Good. I want more of this.” You grin at him widely, you see him slowly loosening up that tension he’s worked himself into. Time slips you when you place sweet touches and kisses all over his chest and stomach, strategically avoiding his cock.
You’re enjoying peppering hundreds of tiny kisses all over his skin while Homelander keeps his hands on you. Your hair, arms or waist—or anything else he can get his hands on really. You kiss and touch him all at the same time feeling like it will never be enough.
His voice breaks you from your indulging. “Greedy.”
“For you? Yeah.”
Homelander’s warm hands reach behind your back, unclasping your bra. He purrs as soon as the garment falls down, giving him unrestricted access to your pretty tits. You help him out by taking your arms out of the straps and throwing it over to the pile of his suit.
“Who’s greedy now?”
“It’s only fair I get to stare at your tits too.” He’s too taken in by the sight of them that he sits up, with you still on his lap as he nuzzles your breasts. Like a happy cat he purrs against you, mouthing at the skin in between your breasts with distinct hunger. His hands cup them from the side, giving them a squeeze.
He kisses his way over to the peak of your left breast, indulgingly twirling his tongue around your nipple before sucking it in between his lips entirely. He’s very vocal, sucking the bud so salaciously it has your lower belly warming instantaneously. Feeling his cock throb right against your clothed pussy feels obscene after such a long foreplay.
The little back and forth he does with your hips really makes you aware of how uncomfortably wet your underwear has gotten.
You let him suck on your other breast as well, raking your fingers through his locks before you push him back down. “It’s meant to be my turn.”
“Well you’re taking fucking forever, forgive me for wanting to blow off a little steam.”
“Sure, sure, you’re totally not enjoying this.” As a cheeky reminder you reach down to squeeze his erect cock through his red briefs.
“I’d be enjoying coming inside you a hell of a lot more.”
His hands on your hips rip the fabric of your underwear, pulling the tatters off you and throwing them off to the side. It’s not the first time he’s pulled this move, you were more ready this time round.
“Okay fine, I hear you loud and clear.” You can’t stop the smile stretching across your lips. His eagerness is cute. It’s nice to have a partner who wants you so desperately. As long as he’s willing to slow down ever so often.
You lean down to kiss his chest some more, kissing your way to his nipples to give him the taste of his very own medicine. Taste he seems to enjoy a lot more than you expected.
But you’re not going to torture the man for much longer. You’ve had your fun—at least the start of it. So you give him what he wants.
You pull down his cute red briefs that he helps kick down the rest of the way.
You’re a little blown away by how good he looks underneath you, all naked.
“Well?”
“Just admiring the goods—the whole package actually.” You gesture a sweeping gesture with your hands, framing him with your thumb and forefinger on each hand like a photographer would.
You sit back on his thighs, hand wrapping around his cock. You smear the precum across his tip with your thumb, listening in for his pretty little whimpers. He’s always so sensitive. “Look up for me, baby. Up into the mirror. I want you to watch yourself.”
You stroke his cock with one hand, massaging his balls with the other. Jesus, you could come watching him react the way he does.
His muscles quiver and tense with the sensations. He’s so much more interesting without the armour in the way. Seeing how everything affects his entire body is beautiful. This whole experience has you gaining a new appreciation for Homelander’s senses.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” The question catches him off guard and his gaze snaps down to yours, away from the mirror. Your hand doesn’t stop stroking.
“No-oh. Jus-just sit on it already.”
“As his majesty wishes.” You finally do the honours of slowly sitting down on his cock, the thick shaft fills you so fully you exhale with relief when he bottoms out.
“Ffffuck me.” Homelander’s whole body is strung tight, waiting to snap.
“I am.”
He throws you a withering look. “That’s my line.”
“Aren’t you meant to share things in a relationship?”
“Oh I’ve got something to share with you, just you wait.” Homelander digs his feet into the bedding, gaining leverage as he thrusts up into you. You can’t help but yelp when it goes from zero to a hundred within a second. You’re holding onto his hand on your hip while you support yourself with the other against his chest. Your moans come to you naturally, he’s filling you fully in each thrust. The delicious pull of his entire length seesawing in and out of you is what stole your breath the first time you fucked.
After all this teasing and waiting, it’s Homelander’s time to indulge in his fun. And you let him have it—not like it causes you much grief. He transforms between a pained grin each time you squeeze around him to a fully devilish smirk when he gets your legs to involuntarily shake around his.
“Goddamn, I nearly forgot how good your pussy feels with how long this took you.”
You’d answer if you had any coherence left in you but you’re currently getting the life fucked out of you. Not exactly the headspace for an answer.
Just as quickly as he picked up the pace he rolls you around on the bed, slotting you underneath him with ease. Automatically you wrap your legs around him, your arms going around his neck when he buries his face into yours.
He drives into you desperately. Each stroke leaves your spine tingling and pussy quivering.
“Can you come like this?” He comes across breathless, words coming out as gasps between him mouthing at and licking your neck.
“Prop my ass up.”
Homelander almost reluctantly leans back, settling himself on his knees as he pulls in the pillow he earlier had his head on. Like you weigh nothing at all, he props your ass up with one hand and shoves the pillow underneath with the other.
He doesn’t lean back over you again, instead easily picking up a new position. Your legs point up, resting against his shoulders as his cock sinks into you again. His hands settle over the top of your thighs, eagerly pulling you into each one of his strokes.
“Better?”
“Uh-huh.” You’re giving him very little feedback because all you’re focused on is the way his cock rubs against all your favourite spots, pushing you closer and closer towards your orgasm. God, he’s good. You don’t like telling him too often should he grow an even bigger ego, but he sure knows how to give it to you good.
You normally need Homelander to rub your clit simultaneously to be able to reach orgasm but today has you so worked up and the view of him is so pretty and this angle is so—
“Fuck, I’m gonna come…” You mumble, barely coherent as the next few thrusts push you over the edge. Your pussy tightly squeezes around his cock before relaxing into a softer throbbing sensation of your orgasm washing over you.
You didn’t even realise you had your eyes closed near the end as you open them again. You feel a little dizzy, smattering of stars appearing in your vision. A mop of blonde hair tickles your chin.
Homelander must have been on the verge of coming this whole time because you didn’t even realise he was right there with you, spilling deep inside you.
He’s now sprawled across the top of you, catching his breath while keeping the skin-on-skin contact. You’re sweaty and tacky—arguably it’s not at all comfortable. But you’ve fought hard to have this, so you can survive a bit of sweat. At least you’re no longer sticking to leather.
Homelander rolls off you with a huff, facing the ceiling mirror again.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Tiger.”
Of course he knows what he’s doing. Everything about you is different to what he’s used to.
He’s used to sex feeling like pure rush. From the occasional fan he’s fucked during a convention to a full-blown—though fabricated—relationship with Maeve. He’s used to the fever of the moment. Where you just go, go, go. Getting his partner off as quickly as possible. Keeping them engaged and wanton as long as possible so they can’t think and reconsider what they’re doing. He’s used to sex feeling like a race against time.
But you’re not like that. You’re not looking to escape as soon as you’ve had your fill.
He catches your eye in the mirror and you give him a pleased tired little smile, still catching your breath. You don’t hide away from him.
You’ve done the opposite of what he’s used to.
You’ve slowed him down, asked him to stop rushing you. Savouring each moment is a privilege he hasn’t had before you.
Fuck, he’s not sure anybody before you has actually wanted to be with him for him, rather than the prestige or power that comes with his name. He’s used to being the one to save everybody. He doesn’t need saving—of course not—yet, the sentimental part of him thinks that you just might.
You break him out of your thoughts by tapping his shoulder.
“Wanna take a bath together?”
“Now?” He slurs a bit.
“Yeah, so we can relax after your big—BIG performance.”
“Hm, okay. Let’s take a bath.” He’s closing his eyes, if not due to the exhaustion his release brought, then to escape him staring disapprovingly.
“I’ll go set it up.” You say. All he hears is the padding of your bare feet down the lacquered floors. The sound of flowing water after you turn the tap on is strangely soothing. He opens his eyes, looking up at himself, still sprawled naked across the bed.
Looking at himself right next to the pile of the bulky suit usually brings up thoughts he doesn’t enjoy dwelling on. Today, he can’t help but feel the nervous heat low in his belly, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he recalls the enthusiastic way you’ve explored him today.
“You shouldn’t be letting her get this close.”
“You shouldn’t have let her in.”
“I’m just trying to look out for you, buddy. You know nothing good ever comes from this. From… love.”
He makes the word sound so dirty, vile. What he’s experiencing with you is anything but. You’re good for him.
“But for how long?”
“How long until it turns out she’s just like the rest. Unreliable. Untrustworthy. Fake.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Do you really think she’s gonna stick around when she meets the real you?”
He doesn’t want to respond to him. Not today. Not at the very least now.
Homelander slides off the bed. It’s the only way he can escape his judgmental looks. Too lazy to take proper steps he lightly levitates off the ground, carrying himself up to the bathroom.
He tips his feet down to switch to walking, getting a view of you leaning over the vanity, removing whatever makeup and product you’ve got left on your face from the day. The bath is nearly full and bubbled up.
“Oh great—you’re here!” You smile at him through the mirror while you rub the mascara out of your lashes.
“Get in and let me know if it’s hot enough.”
The domesticity of this catches him off guard, suddenly blinking away the wet burn in his eyes. He does as he’s told, stepping over the bathtub’s edge and settling into the bubbles. He pushes some out of the way so they don’t get in his face.
“The temperature's fine.” He leans his head back against the rim of the tub, closing his eyes and releasing a sigh.
“You okay there, baby?” He opens his eyes to the sound of your voice to see you still messing with your face.
“I will be if you stop fucking around and join me.” It’s meant to be a joke but part of him does feel a little antsy at not being close to you at all times. After today he doesn’t want to be even an inch away from you if he can help it.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
“Do you want me to sit on the opposite side?” You put one foot in, sighing contently at the water’s hot embrace.
“Nope. On top of me.”
“Haven’t had enough of that today?” He loves your cheeky side, however infuriating you can be at times. It’s strangely liberating to not have to hold back what he says in front of you, you don’t get offended by his quips.
“Never.” When both of your legs are in he pulls you down on top of him, your back to his chest. The water splashes everywhere but he doesn’t have it in him to care, it’s not his problem anyway. You disagree.
“Easy! No need to flood the bathroom.” He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your shoulders when you tilt your body a little and he places his lips against your temple. He’s not kissing it as much as he’s just resting his lips there, really taking your presence in.
“It’s fine.” He mumbles against your temple.
You rest against each other for a while in silence. Your nails trace little lines across his forearms. It’s all so strangely soothing he can almost tune out the voice in his head warning him to not let his guard down.
He silences it by turning your head over to him, kissing you square on the lips. You still taste a little bit like the unscented cleanser you’ve used on your face but he’d rather have that than no taste of you at all.
He pulls away, unknowingly matching your tender smile.
“Thank you for today, I had a great time.” You speak up before he ever has the chance.
As a response he kisses you again. Slow and steady, like you’ve been asking for the whole day. You both spend this quiet time to just enjoy each other’s presence without any interruptions to your day. Just having the afternoon free is rare for Homelander. He’s glad you’ve ended up making it into a whole experience.
When your kisses fizzle out into just a few small pecks you slide down to slot yourself in between him a little more comfortably, your head settling on his chest with a pleased little hum.
To be loved is to be accepted. He believes he’s found both of those things in you. On an impulse, his gaze flickers to the mirror to meet his knowing look.
He just doesn’t know if you’ll accept all parts of him.
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Okay, so I’ve been noticing my homelander fics have been getting attention and I SEE YOU POOKIES!!! I have to two ideas but idk which one yall want more
Okay, so I’ve been noticing my homelander fics have been getting attention and I SEE YOU POOKIES!!! I have to two ideas but idk which one yall want more
