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venus-haze · 1 year

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My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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lostloveletters · 6 months

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You Can’t Start a Fire Without a Spark (Ron Speirs x Reader)

Summary: Night falls in Bavaria to victorious revelry, and at the goading of your friends, the lust you've been kindling in secret suddenly burns hot and wild to the touch.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used besides the slightest bit of backstory. Inspired by several Bruce Springsteen songs. This is based on the fictional portrayals in the HBO miniseries and not the real individuals. (Also, hi I’m Battie! This is my first Band of Brothers fic despite being a fan of the miniseries since 2016. Let me know what you think🖤) Do not interact if you’re under 18, are a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Inherent power imbalance. Explicit content involving vaginal fingering and unprotected sex.

You weren’t sure how six of you managed to squeeze into a booth together in the Bavarian bar, elbow-to-elbow as you drank beer and shouted over each other. Sitting squished against Talbert, who was squished against Malarkey, one of your legs wasn’t even in the booth. On the other side of the table, Babe, Perconte, and Luz were in the same situation.

Victory in Europe had just been declared. The celebratory feeling filled your lungs with each breath despite the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the bar. With the war in Japan still raging on, the likelihood of those without enough points having to endure another drop remained up in the air. One night of fun wouldn’t hurt anybody. No one could say you hadn’t earned it.

Glancing around at your friends, the guys you lived and would’ve died for—even after the war ended, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t imagine being closer with anyone else. Growing up without much of a family, passed around homes of distant relatives and near strangers until you had enough and ventured out on your own as a teen, you’d never had such strong connections before. The only reason you were even allowed to work so closely with Easy Company, was the absence of any next-of-kin, no one to cause a fuss if something went wrong while you were overseas. You were non-combat detail, of course, typing and running errands as needed, but more often than was likely ideal, you found yourself somewhere on the line with the medic training you’d gotten.

You hadn’t been at Toccoa with them, only meeting most of the guys just before D-Day. After Operation Market Garden’s failure in Holland, they came around to you upon the return to Aldbourne, least surprising of whom was Talbert, ever so kindly taking you under his wing when he was recovering from being accidentally stabbed by Smith. The two of you became close friends, and though you heard of his exploits with women in just about every city the company passed through, he seemed hellbent on being your wingman, trying to set you up with at least half a dozen members of Easy to little success.

With the taste of sweet victory and bold German beer on everyone’s lips, declarations of what and who everyone would ideally do to celebrate poured from your friends with little prompting. Knowing you well enough at that point, Tab took the opportunity to get you in on the conversation, the light mood and buzz in your system leaving you more loose-lipped than usual.

“Alright, our company’s eligible bachelorette,” Tab said, conspiratorial mirth in his voice. “Fraternization rules to the dust, which of Easy’s officers would you do your celebrating with?”

Your lips twitched, failing to suppress your smile as your drinking buddies awaited your answer. “Speirs.”

Finishing off the rest of your beer, you stifled your amusement at the clamor that ensued. Undoubtedly the least expected answer, part of Tab’s failure to secure a date for you among his comrades was your infatuation with the legendary captain—closely guarded, until you had a beer or two in you, apparently.

“Speirs?” Babe repeated incredulously.

“No way,” Malarkey said, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“They need to get you to one of those headshrinkers,” Perconte said.

“Hold on a minute,” Tab said with an amused smile, trying to reign in the chaos. “Let’s hear her out.”

“You wanna know why?” you asked.

Ever since Speirs stuck with Easy Company after Bastogne, you worked closely with him as you did the other officers, taking notes and keeping memos for them. Speirs often requisitioned you to type up reports for him, finding it easier to dictate what he wanted written to you than typing them himself. Sometimes you found his attention drifting off when it was a more mundane report, his words trailing away while he looked at you, typically slouched on a chair or couch at the end of a long day. You would let yourself take him in, hoping the perceptive man wouldn’t notice the way your eyes trailed up his long, outstretched legs to his disheveled hair.

He provided the most attention to battlefield exploits, and at times you couldn’t keep up with how fast he was speaking or would find yourself a bit startled by some of the gruesome details he relayed. You’d heard the rumors about him. Everyone had. But a disgustingly repressed part of you that’d emerged at some point during the war was secretly thrilled by them, almost hoping they were true.

“Well, you owe us that much,” Luz said.

“I owe you all jack and shit.”

“What if I buy you another drink?”

“I think I’m gonna need another one after hearing this,” Babe muttered.

“Let’s see, why would I sleep with Captain Speirs,” you said, playfully tapping your chin in faux thought. “For starters, he’s fine as hell, which should be reason enough. I like that he’s a no-nonsense kinda guy. He has this intensity that I think is really sexy.”

The cacophony of bewilderment and objection that filled the booth met its slow death when the occupant of the booth behind yours got up. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry when you saw it was Speirs.

He made his way out of the pub, your light mood with him.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Do you think he heard?”

“No way he didn’t,” Malarkey said.

“Fuck, I need to do something before I get demoted or transferred or something.”

Tab grinned. “Well, if you’re not walking straight tomorrow, we’ll know you did something.”

“Shut up, jerk!” you hissed. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

He gave you a mocking salute.

You flipped him off as you got up from the table, running after your CO who more than likely overheard you expressing to your buddies that you’d enthusiastically have sex with him. Of course it happened the one time you actually joined in on their vulgarity.

Unlike his silent stride, your boots pounded against the pavement, announcing your approach to him.

He turned around abruptly, and you nearly fell over your own feet as you stopped in your tracks.

His intense gaze on you felt like being at the end of his rifle’s sight. “Are you drunk, Y/L/N?”

“No—no, sir.”

“Good. I could use your help with a report.”

You stared at him blankly. A report. At ten o’clock at night. “Of course, sir. Anything you need.”

The corners of his lips upturned for a split second. “I’m sure.” Fuck. He’d definitely heard you.

The two of you started off down the street, toward a more residential area wherein officers had requisitioned houses for the US Army’s use for the foreseeable future. Almost dreamily picturesque, tree branches waved at you in the cool night breeze, the surrounding mountains illuminated by the bright fullness of the moon. From the soft glow of street lamps lighting your way, something you’d previously taken for granted, you tried not to stare at him. In the warm glow of that balmy summer evening, however, he looked almost too good to be true. Hair slightly unkempt, the whisper of stubble along his jaw and cheeks, surely his face would feel like heaven between your thighs.

Soldiers in all states of drunkenness ambled up and down either side of the street, hollering and singing in carefree celebration. Speirs placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you past a group of men who could hardly walk straight. One of them walked right into you, his head nearly colliding with yours.

“Fuck,” the young soldier grumbled under his breath, shooting you a dirty look for being in his way.

Speirs wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you aside to stand in front of you. “Private,” he snapped, staring down the young man who looked like he was about to shit himself. “I advise you get yourself together and watch where you’re going.”

“Yes, sir—Captain Speirs, sir,” he said, turning his attention to you. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You nodded silently, and the private ran off after his buddies.

Speirs turned to you, his hands on your shoulders as his intense gaze searched your face for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

In Hagenau, one of the replacements had been pestering you the moment he laid eyes on you. At first, you humored him, supposing he needed a friend, as the men who’d been through Normandy and Bastogne were understandably closed-off and tight knit. Thought the new guys were too green, too eager to do something stupid and get someone killed in pursuit of battlefield glory that was too haunting to exist.

Then he started getting handsy, not enough to be outright inappropriate, but enough to make you uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what possessed you to mention it to Speirs when he’d asked you how you were doing one afternoon. His brow furrowed, he gave you a silent nod in response. The replacement had been transferred elsewhere the following day.

Though Speirs stared right at you, there was something far away in his eyes as he squeezed your shoulders.

“I’m fine, sir,” you repeated. “I promise.”

“Hmm? Oh, right,” he said softly.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, not bothering to offer you one. You were in the minority of people who didn’t smoke, allowing you to leverage the packs in your rations to trade amongst the men. As time went on, you’d leave them on top of your finished reports for Speirs, especially if they were Luckys. You watched silently as he lit the cigarette in his mouth, a shining silver lighter in his hand. His eyes drifted from the flame back to you, though you noticed the slightest spark behind them.

The rest of the walk was uneventful until you reached the house. A few stragglers hung around on the street outside, their voices becoming the slightest bit more hushed as they watched you follow Speirs inside. By the time the front door shut, they’d already begun speculating why the two of you were going to his place so late. With the way the men spread gossip, you could hazard a guess as to what the tale would morph into by the morning. You silently bemoaned the prospect of the night hardly being as interesting as whatever they conjured up.

Following him upstairs, the makeshift office seemed especially cramped with the boxes and papers that were haphazardly spread around the place. It’d probably take weeks to sift through it all, especially since a glance at one of the files appeared to be in German. Getting help wouldn’t be the issue, but rather the fact that none of the members of Easy who knew German were particularly inclined toward office work, becoming restless after an hour or so.

A problem for another time, however. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly half past ten, and you were almost inclined to ask Speirs about coffee, depending on how long he expected the report to take. You sat down at the desk, ready to begin typing the date when you noticed the ink was out.

“Is there any typewriter ribbon around, sir?” you asked.

He nodded. “Should be in one of the drawers.”

You opened the drawer immediately to your right, finding a mess of stationary that had clearly been shoved in carelessly. Or maybe someone had taken something out of it in a hurry. Digging through it, you came up empty, and moved onto the drawer below it. No dice. The one to your left didn’t have typewriter ribbon either, at least, you would have been surprised to find it tucked in with the loot that nearly filled the thing to the brim–shining silverware, glistening jewelry, and trinkets that someone with a keener eye than you had clearly decided were valuable enough to keep.

His extensive looting was an open secret, but a glimpse of this treasure trove was a shock to the system. So entranced by the contents of the drawer, you didn’t hear him walk up beside you until his shadow fell over the necklaces and rings you silently coveted.

He gave you a sly smile, wolfish in the dim lighting. “Haven’t had much of a chance to organize those.”

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered in awe, gingerly touching a pearl necklace.

“Try them on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.”

You picked up the string of pearls, a nervousness washing over you at holding something so valuable, something of his. Walking over to the window, the nearest reflective surface you could find, you pulled the necklace on, garish against your uniform. You tried shaking off the odd feeling of playing dress-up in front of your commanding officer, a girlish whim he inexplicably allowed you to indulge in. His expression was unreadable when you turned around for him.

“They suit you,” he finally said, brushing his fingers against the pearls, slowly drifting lower to the exposed skin of your decollete. “Keep them.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you small gifts every now and then—typewriter ribbon, fountain pens, chocolate, trinkets. You knew better than to question where he got them, as he seemed to give them to you at the perfect moment. The stationary supplies when you were running low on them, chocolate and trinkets when you were feeling down. At times they’d be accompanied by notes from him. Usually short, but so sincere you treasured them more than the gifts. Whenever you’d try to thank him, he’d just shrug, almost dismissing the gesture.

This time, feeling bold in the cover of night, you pressed your lips to his cheek, uttering a quiet “thank you.”

He didn’t react. Disappointed, you moved to sit back down at the desk until he grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back to him.

“Were you telling the truth?” he asked, his voice a husky, demanding whisper. “Back at the bar.”

“Yes.”

“So if I said I’ve wanted you in a bad way since Bastogne?”

You kissed him, an explosion of warmth in your chest as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He settled his hands on your hips, squeezing them with a tenderness that betrayed his longing. Parting your lips for him, you allowed him to deepen the kiss, wanting to see how far he’d take it.

Almost overwhelmed by his gentle intensity, you pulled away from his lips, though his mouth chased yours, capturing yet another kiss from you.

“Show me how you want me,” you pleaded with desperate kisses to his face, trailing down to his throat where you could feel the way he groaned in pleasure at your touch.

“In my room,” he managed to say. “I wanna lay you on the bed and–”

“Anything, anything you want, Ron.”

His lips slightly blushed from the ferocity of your kiss, he parted his mouth as if to speak, but instead took your hand firmly in his.

He led you straight down the nondescript hallway that nevertheless left you feeling turned around, dizzied by your desire for him. A door opened, and you were promptly pulled inside the room. The click of the lock behind you sent a slight shiver down your spine.

Pulled into his arms again, you lost yourself in his fervent kiss, until you reached down, palming his hardening cock through his pants. He moaned into your mouth, the sound only exacerbating the heat between your thighs, the ache inside of you that up until that point had been abated by your fingers, always rushed, never satisfying the urge to be filled–by him, preferably. From the way he felt beneath your hand, he could do all of that and more.

And after the months of silently, almost guiltily lusting after him like a nun, he wanted you too. The ego boost emboldened you. “Did you ever think about me when you were alone?” you asked, giving his bulge a gentle squeeze.

“Yes–fuck,” he groaned.

“Like what?”

“Besides keeping me warm in that goddamn forest? This–I thought of this,” he murmured against your lips. “But I didn’t let myself think of a future with you. I couldn’t have survived if I did.”

“And now?”

“I want everything you’ll give me, sweetheart.”

“Lucky you, that’s exactly what I wanna give.”

He smiled slightly, his hands hastily working to unbutton your shirt. “Lucky–except you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You reached for the pearls, about to take them off when he caught your wrist in his hand.

“Leave them on.” His voice was steady, authoritative, the closest he sounded to Speirs since he scolded the private who walked into you earlier.

Weak in the knees, you acquiesced to the one and only order your captain would give you that night. You otherwise undressed, your uniform in a pile at your feet. Your bra and panties were simple, certainly not the sexy lingerie you’d fantasized about seducing Ron in, but his eyes blazed as if your body were hugged by an inviting satin set. A burst of confidence rushed through you, and you held his gaze as you discarded your bra and panties.

You laid back on the bed as he undressed, watching intently until he was down to nothing more than his underwear, his hard cock straining against the fabric. He pulled them off, and you sucked in a breath at how big he was. Erect, at attention for you, all the more intimidating as he approached, joining you on the bed. His daring in the line of fire sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He straddled your hips, his eyes taking in your naked form with a primal intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. He reached down, two of his fingers circling your clit, your body trembled beneath his touch. By the way he studied how your face contorted in pleasure as a foreign-sounding moan rose from deep in your chest, you could tell it was payback for your teasing him just minutes before.

His fingers shifted, slipping inside your wet core with ease. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace that made your stomach tighten and toes curl, but slowly bringing you closer to orgasm. You bucked your hips when he curled his fingers inside of you, blood rushing in your ears so loud that you could hardly hear the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, one that made you nearly howl in frustration.

“Who got you this worked up, sweetheart?” he asked, nipping the shell of your ear.

A whimper. “You.”

“What was that?”

“You.” Through a haze of lust-soaked desperation, you took his face in your hands. “Don’t make me beg, Sparky. It’s always been you.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs, and you nearly whined until he slid his length inside your pussy, your walls clenching around his cock. You braced yourself on his shoulder blades, your nails doing a number on him as you dug them into his taut skin while he thrust into you. Carefully at first, almost frustratingly so, until you cried, “More.”

He was bigger than you were used to, even before the war, but the slight discomfort was drowned out by the way his steady, deep thrusts filled you. He ducked his head down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, his hand groping the other. Sucking on your breast, his teeth grazed your nipple, the hint of pain complimenting the pleasure. Your climax was so close you could see it if you closed your eyes, raw and vulnerable.

“Ron, I’m so close,” you moaned. “Don’t stop.”

He lifted his head, nodding. “Where should I–”

“Inside–fuck–I want you to cum inside me.”

And he did, with an erratic thrust that pushed him deeper inside you still. You kissed him as your pussy milked his cock, lifting your hips to grind against him for the slightest bit of friction to your clit. You threw your head back as you came, an obscene moan escaping your lips as pleasure spread across your body, white-hot like a star in supernova.

His name fell from your lips, laced with curses, over and over like a vulgar prayer. He pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your decollete, his lips brushing the pearls that stuck to your sweat-sheened skin until he shuddered, bottoming out in you.

He pulled out slowly, his toned chest heaving before he collapsed next to you. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes, silently offering you one. You declined, and he placed one between his lips, using a nearby match to light it before taking you in his arms. You settled comfortably against his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments.

“So, what about that report?” you asked slyly when you’d finally caught your breath.

His quiet laughter rumbled in his chest, and he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze betraying his adoration as he looked at you. “I might need your help again tomorrow night."

Knowing it was too risky for you to spend the night, he reluctantly let you leave around three in the morning, a slight pout on his face as you took off the pearl necklace and tucked it into your pocket. You left him with a passionate parting kiss, one that he used to nearly convince you to stay just a little bit longer until you quietly promised you’d report to him first thing.

The streets were mostly deserted except for the men on patrol. You kept your head down, booking it back to where you were quartered, hoping your arrival wouldn’t wake anyone up, or at least raise any questions.

Just your luck, you ran right into Tab, a shit-eating grin on his face at your disheveled appearance. “I knew it."

#ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #hbo war #hbo war fanfic

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myskinnyd1ary · 16 days

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💗 my safe foods 🌟💕 (some might be not low cal for you but still safe for me, tw €-D)

~ small fruit like berries, best high vol low cal snack

~ skinny crunch bars (65 cal) nice low cal treat

~ applesauce, has a lot of fibre and super healthy if made at home (just apples and water so low cal)

~ fibre one bars (90 cals) satisfies sweet tooth and good for digestion, fav is choco fudge brownie

~ raspberry jam (17 cal per tsp from bonne maman), very low cal for a spread, way better than butter

~ coke zero (ofc) fills me up and tastes nice

~ sushi, low cal, go to option to eat out w friends

~ halo top, a full pint of icecream for between 3-400 cals, mostly have when i feel like bingeing

~ itsu vegetable/chicken gyoza, you can have 8 veggie ones and 6 chicken ones for under 200 cal, super filling and looks like a full meal to others

~ literally any soup ! they’re always rly low cal

~ yogurts: onken vanilla 0% fat (75 cal per 100g), muller light toffee (69 for one small pot), kvarg white chocolate (83 cals for one small pot + 15g protein !)

some thinspo for motivation 💗

#3dn0s #tw ana bløg #tw ed but not sheeran #⭐️ ing motivation #⭐️ve #🕯️as a feather #3ating d1sorder #4nor3xia #⭐️rving #⭐️vation goals

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stvrlightvngel · 1 month

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Homemaking .vs. Housekeeping

In this day and age, it seems the art of homemaking has almost been completely lost, if not forgotten altogether. What we as small children used to play pretend, has somewhat become a burden to us. We were pushed to get an education and focus on a career, rather than learning the art of homemaking.

Those of us who have fallen into the role of being the homemaker and mother tend to reply "Oh, I'm just a stay at home mom," as if it is something we have become ashamed of. How many of us were ridiculed and made fun of for saying we wanted to be mothers as children in school?

You also don't have to be a stay at home mom if you choose not to. Or even have kids if that isn't something you'd not like to do. It is absolutely possible to be a homemaker and have an entirely seperate career. Regardless of your personal living circumstances, ANYONE can be a homemaker.

People tend to come to a disconnect between homemaking and housekeeping. They are NOT the same thing. While housekeeping is very important, it isn't where people find contentment or fulfillment.

Housekeeping is the actual action of keeping your house looking neat and tidy. This includes the mundane cleaning, but it also may include repairing the roof or plumbing as needed.

Homemaking is the art of making your house a home.

So what makes a house a home? Comfortability, a welcoming atmosphere, love, decor, and above all - you. Homemaking is about people and communicating love through actions. When I think about the homes where I’ve most felt loved and welcomed, it was not because the house was spotless but because the women in those homes knew how to truly make a house a home.

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vegan-nom-noms · 1 year

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Healthy Chocolate Oatmeal

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t-a-k-a-k-o · 15 days

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omg hii girlie how's your day today?

My day wasn't too terrible, I am working on trying the jellies in posted so I can get a more descriptive flavor profile for some one, so I ate 2 with hours apart and all it said on my tracker was 6 cals and I was so vibin. I packaged up some of our sweet potato purée and had like a tablespoon of it and it was rly good, tracked it and it only said 15 cals and I was like feeling rly good, then it kinda went downhill? I was packaging up some chicken noodle soup and lowkey binged, so I purged (my reminder to DONT) and it was a rly rough one, like I haven't had a rough one like this in a couple years. I cleaned and organized our freezers (there's multiple bc one broke and some spare space in the chest freezer and it's just a mess [also our landlord is coming over to check out carbon monoxide sensors since our neighbors' went off and our house is not messy so I was cleaning there too]) so after I was exhausted and my sister comes home from work being pissy at me which made me feel kinda shitty esp since I was tired, I made dinner (miso soup with tofu, chicken stir fry, rice, asparagus, dragon fruit [if y'all want recipes for this lemme know ♡) whilst making dinner I was like on the verge of a panic attack and was super shaky (nearly cut off me fingie a few times) then as it got closer it went into a nice big one (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠) from there it's not bad, I made some lunches for my sister and finished the project from earlier via the refrigeration, now i am laying down with a nice cool cup of water and a warm heat pack

That was a lot sry, also ur SOOOOO sweet for asking! Atm I'm taking a short break from schooling bc I'm doing a med change that totally sucks and I was dropped off the old one cold turkey so I have headaches often

U r so wonderful and sweet and kind and u deserve ur dream body, ur body (i.e. stomach) to not make weird noises (growling and being an embarrassment), and fasts to go quick and easy and if u r not opposed I would love hearing abt ur day too ♡

Oh! And ofc I scrolled on all these beautiful babes pages on this app, got some good thinspo if they let me (it's a personal photo ofc imma ask if they r ok for me to have)

Sorry again, u caught me on a day I actually did some shit besides rot

Love u babes ♡

#thinnerpls #thigh g4p #an@rexi@#mi@#purg1ng #th1gh g@p #pro for me not for thee #3d blog #sk1nny legs #🕯️as a feather

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littlebunnylb · 1 year

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subtle regression apps 🤫

🍰 cooking/restaurant

papa’s fooderia games

animal restaurant

good pizza, great pizza

boba tale

fresh bread! fairy bakery

bunnybuns

kuma sushi bar

💤 idle games

idle magic academy

dear my cat

tsuki’s odyssey

healing pocket

alchademy

🎶 rhythm game

like a dino/like a pet

sweet sins superstars

hatsune miku: colorful stage

🐾 pet simulator

axolochi

pakka pets village

kotodama library

otter ocean - scavenger hunt

🏠 life simulator

adorable home

animal crossing: pocket camp

pocket love

kiki’s vacation

animal camp: healing resort

purrfect tale

🌾 farming

my dear farm

stardew valley ($4.99)

🗂 collection

clawbert/clawberta

kleptocats/kleptodogs

cat game

sailor cats

lake kindred origin

🗺 adventure & action

dadish

sea pet world

bushido bear

cookie run: kingdom

the secret of cat island

🧩 puzzle

where’s my water?

hamster town

scribblenauts unlimited ($4.99)

i love hue/i love hue 2

❤️ other

minecraft ($7.99)

roblox

subway surfers

fruit ninja

mario kart tour

doodle jump

crossy roads

my singing monsters

line: disney tsum tsum

pokémon cafe mix

kinder world: cozy plants

if you want something added, message me, send an ask, or put it in the tags/comments/replies!

[ID: an orange background with a sleeping minecraft fox on the left. on the right, black text reads "DNI if: anti agere/agedre/petre/cglre, nsfw/kink, pro-contact map/nomap/pedo, lgbtq+/MOGAI antis or exclusionists, terfs/radfems, proshippers, MIK/supporters, anti-BLM/pro-cop, (neo)nazi, pro-trump/conservative/republican, bigots, pro-ana/thinspo, vent/traumacore blog, blood/gore/medcore, christianity centered”. end ID]

#for when i’m regressed #agere activities #my post #agere apps #agere games #agere #agedre #age regression #age dreaming #sfw agedre #sfw agere

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myfriendanastasia · 10 months

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My rules:

3 day fasts or more

max 150 cals a day

if ate too much: throw up or workout until you burn it

workouts 3 times a week

everyday bodycheck

if hungry: drink water, do a bodycheck and look out for your thinspo

remember that food is your enemy

you love the feeling od being hungry, you are obsessed with it

don’t eat greasy food or sweets

only fruits or vegies

#ana trigger #i need to lose so much weight #i wish i was weightless #my friend ana #restricted diet #tw ana diary #weight loss #4norexi4 #bede motylkiem #ed ednotsheeran restriction

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starfishoverdrive · 8 months

Note

c-c-c-could write a (sfw) fic where the reader feeds enmu cake? dieting rn and istg his upper body looks like thinspo 😔

🍰Feeding Enmu CAKE🌟😻

my first request yasss OFC. i love cake and i love enmu and i love enmu's cake and i love my fans!! #starfishoverdrive galaxy forever

I made it so both of you share the red velvet cake and then kisses :3c!! also, i really like the more domestic approach to enmu x reader like... being a demon slayer and having a cute demon boyfriend who slacks off at your house— i love writing it, will do more !!🌟

words: 1,769

content warnings: since it's sfw idk. but there are innuendos 😿

Enmu made sure you had a good day today. He brushed his teeth so there wasn't any putrid demon breath, polished your sword, and he even decided to get you something special. You didn't know how he obtained such a thing as he was a literal demon in a world full of humans but there it was: a whole red velvet cake. Just the sight was enough to make your mouth water… It looked fluffy and delicious! And when Enmu finally saw the excited look on your face, he lifted the plate and began walking towards you with a grin, flashing the fangs you were all too familiar with now. He sat on your bed—his thighs absorbed most of the area—and placed the plate of cake in his lap. You happily sat next to your boyfriend and pushed yourself against him, and you were immediately hit with the smell of outside. Again, you didn't know how he got this cake… But you appreciated his efforts. To make that clear you pressed a kiss to his cheek and he gazed at you, blushing.

"We'll eat it together!" He chirped, lifting his left hand, and when you looked you saw the mouth holding a fork between its teeth.

"What?!"

You've never seen Enmu eating human food, but you assumed it was terrible to him since he always said no when you offered him something. It'd differ in type. Sweet, sour, bitter, normal—he always declined, so you wondered what made him have a change of heart. Face now hot, you took the fork in your hand and looked into his equally excited eyes.

"Ooooh! You're surprised, aren't you?" He tilted his head with a smile. "That's unnecessary. You should know I love eating cake. Now…!"

He slightly leaned into you and opened his mouth wide, showing off his glistening tongue and sharp canines. It was clean and didn't smell like blood and death like usual. You wondered if he was trying to act like a human at this point…

You jolted when he snapped his teeth together and grinned, his eyes flicking down to the plate casually as if he didn't just scare the life out of you. He guided your fork to the cake while squeezing your hand gently.

"I wanted you to feed me it. Are you too scared, [Y/N]?" He teased.

"No! I just thought—wow. Um-"

You watched as he lowered your hand and made you cut through the cake, and feeling the warmth over your skin made your gut tighten. Even your throat went dry, your heart started pounding, and you wondered if he just put a spell on you. Or… Maybe you were dreaming and that explains Enmu about to eat human food. He stifled a laugh as he watched you pinch yourself with your free hand.

"It's real, darling! If it was a dream, it wouldn't be nearly as innocent as this. Now again~"

Your fork had pierced through a piece of cake so you were prepared for him to part his jaws, and when he did you shoved it in so fast between his teeth it made a clicking noise.

Instantly, his eyes went wide. He was as stiff as a statue for what felt like minutes, but then he blinked. And a waterfall of drool fell past his lips. He was literally sucking the frosting from the fork and you struggled to pull it from his teeth.

"Enmu-! That's not how you eat it!"

He hummed in response, closing his eyes and swallowing. He found your efforts amusing and blushed softly before popping his mouth open at last, nearly sending you flying. You whined at the copious amount of drool dripping from the fork but, you had to admit, that was kind of cute. Your face was even hotter than before as you slowly brought the fork down on the cake again, piercing it and bringing it to his mouth. He lunged at it this time and you didn't give him time to seize it and suck on it, much to his disappointment, but the piece was yummy so he chewed it.

"So messy!" You joked. Well, kind of joked, it was pretty true. You reached over and took his coat in your hand, then wiped his dripping mouth with it. "I can tell you forgot how to eat human food. Why are you drooling so much…"

"Because it's tasty! And also my turn." He took your fork and sloppily poked at the cake until he speared a huge piece that miraculously didn't fall once he held it up. His eyes narrowed and his smile grew wider as he slowly brought the fork to your mouth. "Open wide!"

Honestly, it was scary. You didn't know if he was gonna shove it down your throat or accidentally puncture something, because from the way he ate his pieces he seemed downright insane. But… He was your boyfriend, so you felt a little obligated to trust him. Pushing back your anxieties, you opened your mouth.

"Wonderful!"

He placed it on your tongue carefully. You were clearly taken aback, but you tried your best not to show it. The sweet flavor immediately lit up your senses and you pulled away from the fork, laughing a little as you chewed. Enmu's eyes sparkled. He watched you as if you were some legendary, once in a lifetime sight, and by the time you swallowed the delicious cake he was already prodding your mouth with another piece.

You took it and once again relished the delicious taste of red velvet.

"See…? Good."

You felt sick from how flustered you were. He was still gazing at you so longingly, like he was truly intrigued by your reaction. A lot of the cake was gone now and he was already urging you to swallow down another piece.

"Mm-??"

You grabbed at the fork but he persisted, literally force-feeding you the piece of cake with a fat blush on his face. It tasted amazing so you didn't really care about him shoving it in your mouth, but he was supposed to be eating it too! Not just you. You were attempting to pry the fork from his hands and he simply watched you, death-gripping the utensil with all his strength and laughing. This went on for way too long since he found it so entertaining, but then he finally eased his grip and let you take it.

You poked through a big piece and scowled. You carried the fork to his mouth and he lapped at it like a cat.

"Enmu."

"Darling…"

You forced it in his mouth and he let out a loud, joyful moan. He swirled his tongue around the fork and drank in the sweet taste before swallowing, and you immediately went for another piece after pulling it from his lips. He held his mouth open. His tongue fell against his bottom lip and you shrank back, staring curiously.

He closed his lips around the fork and gazed up at you with his bright, blue eyes. He made sure you saw him lick up every bit of frosting, and then he took the fork in his own hand. It was his turn.

Before he could tell you, your lips were already parted.

"Here comes the Mugen train!" he yelled too excitedly, mimicking a train with his fork in the most giddiest manner. You giggled and closed your eyes, awaiting the piece of cake, but what met your lips was something warm and soft.

Your eyes shot open and you were met with an eyeful of his face right in yours. He was kissing you. Humming lowly, thumb caressing your cheek, and further pressing his mouth into yours. A little whine came from you but you loved it, closing your eyes and melting into the kiss. Once he pulled just his lips from yours, he took the moment to pant, breath fanning against your skin, and you brought your own hand to feel against his heated face. He pressed into you again, this time adding onto the passionate nature of the kiss.

His tongue found its way past your lips and met with your own, swirling around it and sharing the flavor of sweet, delectable cake, all while his thumb rubbed affectionately. It tasted distinct, strong, but undeniably good, and you sucked just slightly while he attacked your tongue with his own. The thumping in your chest had long since turned into pounding, and the more you kept your lips locked the more you lost track of everything that didn't matter. Right now it was just the kiss, his touch, his warmth, his taste—but when he slipped away you were reminded of what he was sitting here for.

You breathed heavily, gazing deeply into his eyes. They shone with his affection for you. His thumb pulled down on your wet lip just enough for him to slip the fork in your mouth to which you eagerly ate. Your face was on fire.

"Ah, we're almost done."

Your turn. You got a good big piece and watched him slowly chew. It seemed he was making progress with how he eats human food… And then you were quickly adding onto those pieces. He ate eagerly, sucking up the drool that pooled in his mouth and licking up every crumb. But for the last bite, he stopped you and took the fork as his own.

With a happy glint in his eye, he fed you the last bite. It tasted better after the kiss you shared with him. Really, his taste lingered, and you looked at him almost pleadingly for another once you swallowed the piece. He's been your boyfriend long enough to know what that look meant, and he eagerly kissed you again. This time, both of you had the fresh taste of cake on your tongue, so he couldn't help but swallow the flavor that flooded his mouth. It was shorter, deeper, and when you pulled away, a line of saliva stretched between you and the demon's lips as you both caught your breath.

He really did make sure your day was good. He licked the fork clean and placed it away along with the empty plate. And because nothing was in the way, he could freely hug you and rub his equally hot cheek against yours. His heartbeat was calm compared to the pounding of your own. It was a sweet thing to hear, you buried your head in his chest and listened to the pretty noise.

"In return, do you think you'll ever try demon food, dear?"

Your eyebrows furrow.

#enmu #enmu x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #bad at tags #enmu twerk compilation #demon slayer #kny #demon slayer fluff

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