Imagine sharing a cigarette with your F/O.
You watch them light it, and take a drag. Your gaze can’t help but linger on their lips puckered around the end of it as they breathe in.
They exhale a lungful of smoke, and they pass the cigarette to you, their fingers brushing yours as you take it between your fingers.
The taste of them lingers on the butt of it, as you put it in your own lips, and you savor the intimacy.
They watch you breathe in, and you wonder if they’re looking at your lips too.
achieve the gravelly growly voice of an ocelot NOW with this one simple method
Funny, I can’t stand when people think it’s okay to harass people over fiction.
Let’s suppose for a second that writing dark fiction was an unhealthy coping mechanism.
Do you think it’s okay to harass people who smoke?
Do you think it’s okay to harass alcoholics?
Do you think it’s okay to harass binge eaters?
Do you think it’s okay to harss people who self harm?
No?
Hmmmm!!!
My F/O is sitting on the edge of my bed, smoking, and stroking his fingers through my hair while I fall asleep. 💕🚬
You and Karl Heisenberg are sitting together, legs dangling off a slab of metal that he insists on calling a bench. He puts his arm around you, the rough fabric of his coat brushing your neck. He takes a short, easy puff off the cigar in his mouth, and passes it to you for one.
The inherent eroticism of your F/O lighting a cigarette in their mouth and then handing it to you to smoke.
Imagine your F/O sitting you on their lap and giving you a puff off of their cigar.
