#smoking is so hard to quit and seeing it makes you crave it

[itsforeating]

sorry that im so bad at smoking weed that im shaking and gagging and crying do you still think im hot

[moonstruckme]

heya!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x reader where r stopped smoking..? i’m 6 months clean from smoking nicotine and i haven’t told anyone (you’re the first!! lmao) just incase i break from a stressful day and so i don’t disappoint!! could you maybe write that into the drabble or whatever you do..? tysm if you do, and if you don’t then no worries!!

i love you mae and make sure to take care of yourself and keep being you!!!!

thanks for requesting gorgeous, i really hope you're doing well!! proud of you <3

cw: smoking, reader deals with addiction

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 936 words

Remus smells like cigarettes. He’s stopped smoking anywhere near you, but you’re sure if you look out the front door you’ll see the telltale smear of ash smashed into the sidewalk from where he’d stamped one out on the way in. The aroma brings longing and self-loathing, the former more potent than the latter, and you find yourself breathing in the fibers of his sweater for a whiff of it. 

Remus doesn’t catch onto the true motivation for your proximity. He takes it for cuddling, adjusting his hold on his book so he can read with one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders, encouraging you closer to his side. Underneath the heady smell of lingering smoke he smells like himself, like cinnamon and oranges, and you try to focus on that as your better sense fogs over and your fingers start itching for a cig. 

“Aha!” Sirius slaps his last card down on the table. 

James blows out a flabbergasted breath, leaning back on his hands on the floor. They’re playing some kids’ card game Remus learned in primary school and unwisely taught them. At first you’d all gotten into it, but after Sirius nearly took your head off for forgetting the rules and playing with two hands (“Sorry, gorgeous, you know I don’t mean anything I say when I’m trying to win…and I could have won, couldn’t I? No, I’m just saying, it’s about the principle—”) you and Remus had bowed out. James and Sirius have retained their obsession for days, each keeping a scoreboard in their own heads that seems to hold them in favor. 

“Angel?” 

You look up, meeting James’ knowing gaze. “Hm?” 

“He asked if you’re getting hungry for dinner,” Remus clues you in, toying with the ends of your hair. 

“Oh, sorry. Um…” You think hard. One of the more irritating things about quitting smoking is that now your appetite never seems to fully die down. You’re ready for your next meal all day long, and so you actually have to think about whether it makes sense for you to have it. “I had some carrots just after I got home, so I could eat whenever you want to.” 

“Alright…” 

You take another deep inhale, telling yourself it’s because Remus smells nice and losing your grasp on self-control all the while. 

“Are you tired?” Remus asks, and you don’t know how you didn’t notice it before, that extra bit of roughness that his voice takes on after he’s been smoking. You’re so envious you could die. “You seem distracted.” 

“I’m good,” you murmur. Though perhaps it’d be better if you did take a nap or something. You’re beginning to feel twitchy. You take in a breath through your nose like you’ve been practicing, letting it out through your mouth. 

“Ah.” Sirius scoots closer to you, laying his cheek on the couch cushion. “You want to have a piece of your gum, sweet thing?” 

You look at him guiltily. Remus makes a soft sound of realization. 

“You’re picking your nails,” Sirius explains, and you look down to see that you are. “I imagine that means you’re craving one.” 

It’s simultaneously sweet and irksome that none of your boyfriends will even say the word cigarette around you anymore. They’re trying to be considerate, you know, but it feels like they think your self-control is so tenuous that just one word could shatter it. You don’t have the heart to tell them. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, getting the pack of gum out of your pocket. Just the act of unwrapping a stick makes you feel instantly better. “I guess I was thinking I wouldn’t need it anymore.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” James says lightly. “I don’t imagine it’s easy, sweetheart, you shouldn’t feel bad about using something to cope. It’s not like having gum hurts anything.” 

You hum, then turn to Remus sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, do you think you might be able to change?” He looks confused. “Your sweater smells like cigarettes,” you explain. 

James gasps as though scandalized and Remus swears, grabbing the neckline of his sweater and tugging it off. He tosses it into the hall. 

“M’sorry, dove.” He takes your head between his hands, mushing a kiss into your hair. He’s now bare-chested, and you laugh at the dramatics, totally unexpected from him. “I didn’t realize. Is it better now?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

He drops another kiss on your head, remorseful. “Alright, I’ll go grab something else to wear,” he says, starting to stand. Both Sirius and James protest loudly. 

“I think what you’re wearing now looks great,” says James. 

“Yeah,” Sirius seconds, “stay in that.” 

Remus looks down at his shirtless torso, raising an eyebrow at the other boys. You can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Come on, it’s not like the fucking Pope’s coming over,” Sirius says, looking well below your boyfriend’s eyes with unabashed enthusiasm. “Tell him, gorgeous.” 

Remus turns his gaze on you. You curl in on yourself slightly, shrugging your shoulders. “This is the best distraction I’ve had all day,” you say quietly, and James’ laughter booms off the walls. 

“Fair enough.” Remus rolls his eyes, grinning as he sits back down on the couch beside you. You get comfy like you were against his side, now smelling only him. He drapes his arm across your back, settling a hand on your hip. “The lows I stoop to for you, hm?” 

“If you’re not up to the task,” Sirius says, “just say the word. I’d be happy to take her off your hands.” 

“Fuck off,” Remus says, and tugs you closer.

[kingkat12]

Hiii !! I don’t know if you’re still doing Roman Godfrey imagines but if u are can u do Husband!Roman he just have gotten back from work after a hard day & u guys have a smoke session than things take a turn & u two have rough sex?? (U can do your things with the smut I can’t really think of anything 😂🫶🏽 but ty !!)

if i'm still doing Roman Godfrey imagines... IF I'M STILL DOING ROMAN GODFREY IMAGINES??? it's all i ever do, sweetheart🙈💜 i fucking loved writing this and i hope i've done your wish justice!! it took a different turn than expected, but this only means i might have to revisit this tihi... and it's the first bj i've ever written lol so hope it went well! ENJOY!!🌸

silk tie (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, bondage, oral sex (female receiving), blowjob, suit-fetish, smoking

summary: your husband has had quite the day... and now he's adamant about making it a little better

word count: 4,347

I hadn't noticed Roman was home before I walked past the balcony.

It was about three in the morning, which was an odd time for him to return from work. Or had he arrived back earlier?-- I had been asleep, so there was no way for me to know. I never waited up for him anymore, as he was usually either grumpy or completely exhausted. He wouldn't exactly take it out on me, but I was still unsure how to deal with his mood swings ever since his upir cravings got worse. 

Maybe our marriage wasn't perfect, but it had its moments. Moments such as these.

I watched as Roman leaned against the balcony railing, clearly deep in thought as he smoked a cigarette. He was still wearing his suit, not having bothered to get out of his work attire. On top of that, it was clear that he had been ripping at his hair because it looked like an absolute mess. With quiet steps, I joined his side, not saying a word. I could only look at him, revel in the upward curve of his nose, the pout of his lips, and the way he lazily balanced the cigarette between his fingers. 

"Hey, gorgeous," I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "How are you?"

Roman hummed, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nose. It was clear that his mind was elsewhere. "I've been here for fifteen minutes and this is my sixth cigarette. I think I'm slowly going insane,"

It wasn't unusual for Roman to get into these depressive ruts-- it would often happen when work got a little crazy and Pryce wouldn't get off his case. "You're not going insane," I stepped away from the balcony, wrapping my arms around my husband from behind. "You just need to get some sleep... Come to bed." My words were muffled against his broad back, pressing a kiss through his suit. 

Roman sighed, running his free hand over my fingers, feeling how small I was against him. "I already slept an hour in my office," 

Typical. "An hour isn't enough,"

"Well, I'm not sleepy anymore, and that's all that counts," Roman stumped the cigarette against the railing, another sigh escaping him. "But don't let me keep you up."

I nuzzled my face against his back, inhaling the scent of his cologne; I had missed him today. "I don't want to go back to bed without my husband," 

"It wouldn't be the first time,"

I rolled my eyes-- enough was enough. His self-deprecation could be downright annoying sometimes, mostly because he was more stubborn than a donkey. "Talk to me, Rome, what's on your mind?"

Roman gave in, turning to me. Like this, I could see the way the bags under his eyes had darkened since this morning and the way his eyelids were halfway drooped into a look of exhaustion. "It just... hit me today that all my ties are silk,"

"... What?"

"Silk," Roman echoed, and he had a hollow look about him as he wrapped his arms around me. He put his head on top of mine before burying his nose in my hair, inhaling sharply. "The devil wrapped in silk is still the devil."

It didn't take long for me to realize that he was talking about his urges again. "You're not the devil, Roman," I drew small circles on his back, hoping to soothe him. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd had something to drink on top of this. "You're working through it and you're doing well. Do you not realize that?"

He hummed; "It's just not fair to you," Roman's hands went up in my hair, pulling me tighter against his chest. "I want to grow old with you, but sometimes I wonder whether it was a good decision to get married... Whether I shouldn't have been selfish enough to drag you down with me."

I put my hands against his chest, slowly pushing myself away. This was a different speech from his usual sad ones-- this was new. "... What are you saying?"

Exasperated, Roman groaned as he turned away from me, leaning over the railing once more. He dragged his hands through his hair, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "I don't-- I don't know, okay? I just want Pryce's treatments to work, to be rid of whatever the fuck I've become, and just... Fuck! I hear the beating of my heart all the time and it's driving me fucking crazy!" He drove his elbows down against the surface, covering his ears as though it would help. 

My body was begging for me to go back to sleep, but my heart was actively shattering at the sight of Roman so broken. I took slow steps towards him; with wary movements, my fingers dipped into the jacket of his suit, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. My other hand went into the front pocket of his trousers, fishing out his lighter. I wasn't the biggest endorser of smoking, but I knew exactly why Roman did it-- it slowed down his heart, making it easier to bear the constant sound of his blood pulsing through his veins. 

I put the cigarette between my lips, now feeling Roman's glossy eyes on me. Lighting it, taking a rather long drag myself, I made my way between his arms. I balanced the cigarette between my fingers, holding it up in front of his mouth, and it didn't take long before he accepted it, wrapping his plush lips around it with a satisfied sigh. 

Something about the look of relief on Roman's face gave my heart the ease it had needed all day. Knowing I could be the one to soothe him, to bring him down from his panic, assured me that we were good for each other after all. 

I reached out for his tie, feeling the silk between the pads of my fingers. "When you're not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives," My hands left his tie, now resting against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart against my palm. "You've cut your tongue so many times that when life hands you a flower, you can't quite make out what it is. It takes time, Roman. Marriage takes time."

The smoke from the cigarette wrapped around us like a warm duvet, the warm summer breeze blowing it away with soft strokes. A kind, subtle smile spread across Roman's lips, finding solace in my words. His free hand traveled down to rest against the small of my back, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against my forehead. "Sometimes at work, I have thoughts of simply dissolving into you," he murmured, pulling away to take another drag before continuing. "It's unexplainable, but the thought is always there... and there's nothing I want more than that."

I let out the breath I had been holding, glad to see him calm again. "Are we talking sex?"

The laugh that followed made my heart sing; "You'd think so, but that's not how I meant it," Roman took a final drag, putting out the cigarette and tossing it away somewhere. "Although... I could mean it like that."

"Of course you could," I got up on my toes to give his neck a sweet kiss, knowing I couldn't reach up to his face. "But I think our first priority would be to get some sleep, and then we'll see what we can do in the morning if we have time." 

Roman bit his lower lip, suppressing a cheeky grin. His green eyes sparkled with the familiar look of want, and I immediately knew he was up to no good. "I have to disagree... I think the first priority would be to get you out of my shirt,"

My eyes widened-- I had forgotten that I was wearing it. In my defense, it was easier to fall asleep when he was away if I wore it. "What, you want it back or something?"

"No," Roman's voice dropped as his hands went down to grab at my waist. "Just want it off."

"It's three in the morning!--"

"And since when did we care about that?" He didn't even try to suppress his growing smirk anymore, and I watched his pupils dilate in real time as ideas soared through his dirty, dirty mind. It didn't take much time before Roman took my hand into his, bringing it up to his mouth to press a wet kiss against my knuckles. My breath hitched, having missed the sensation of his lips against my body. But suddenly, he lowered my hand and pressed it up against himself, leaving me breathless and in shock. 

Roman gave in to a laugh at the expression on my face, leaning down to press a kiss against the underside of my jaw. "Are you really going to deny me when I'm in a suit? That always works like a killer on you,"

And he was definitely right about that-- everything about him right now made me want to jump him. "Who said anything about denying you?" I mumbled, rubbing him through his trousers, my fingers feeling along each divot and ridge of his length. Swallowing hard, I realized I could feel him grow harder beneath my palm. "I just don't think we should be doing this on the balcony..."

Roman hummed, a low moan vibrating in his chest; "Yeah, good idea," I barely had time to register what was happening before his big arms wrapped around me, hoisting me over his shoulder as I yelped. It always surprised me that he could lift me as though I weighed nothing, and I laughed against his back as he made his way back into the house with a strong grip around me. 

"Rome, for fuck's sake!" I couldn't stop the trail of giggles escaping me, happy to see this side of my husband again. "You can't be serious-- Hey!" The squeak that escaped me was unlike anything I had heard coming from my mouth before, but how else was I to react as Roman struck his hand against my ass? Something about the sting was both painful and weirdly arousing-- I couldn't put my finger on it. Was this my lack of sleep talking?

Roman proceeded to chuckle, leading us into the bedroom. "Of course I'm serious," It didn't take long before he laid me down on the bed, crawling over to me like a predator. "I'm a serious man, you know me." 

"Yeah, right," 

As Roman made space for himself between my legs, I couldn't help but fling my arms around his neck to pull him close. I had waited for him to come home all evening to do just this-- the bliss that filled my body as our lips finally met was unmatched by any other heavenly feeling on earth. "I've wanted you all day," I purred against him, feeling the hardness of his cock twitching against me. 

"Don't say that shit," he whispered back, letting out a shaky breath as he raised himself up. "Makes me feel like I'm going to burst."

I bit down a giggle, my hands reaching for him once more. "Oh, come on, it hasn't been that long since last time!"

"... Three days?"

"Three days?!" I could barely believe it-- this was outrageous. Blinking rapidly, I watched as Roman's smirk reappeared, now leaning back down to capture my lips in a soft, passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him and the fabric of his suit. "Well, I've been busy... and you've been out a lot," he murmured against my lips, his hot breath against my mouth making me shiver. "It's almost as though I need to make sure you're always here waiting for me... Because there's no way in hell I'll let another three days pass before I fuck you again."

I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at, but I liked the sound of it. I liked everything about this actually-- his tongue against mine, my hands in his hair, the feeling of our hearts beating at each other through our chests. But suddenly, the weight of him disappeared off me, and before I knew it, Roman's green eyes practically pierced me as he knelt before me, my legs creasing at his thighs. 

I knew this look. This look of lust, love, and mischief; I couldn't take my eyes off of him. The way his chest heaved, the way he stared down at me through his brows, and the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smirk made my stomach flutter. 

It only dawned on me what Roman actually meant when his hands went up to his tie. Silk. My eyes widened; "Oh God, Rome--"

"Let's strike a deal," he purred, drawing the black tie through his fingers as he licked his lips. "Deal with the devil, if you like. Your little wish for mine."

I nearly shuddered, feeling my pulse quicken. "And what is it that I wish?"

Roman's chuckle was darker than expected. Something told me he had wanted to do this for a while. "I know you have an affinity for my suits, so I'll keep it on. And you... will stay still," 

Stay still? I could only squeal as Roman grabbed my hips, moving me further up the bed with ease. My breaths came out in short, ragged motions as he took my wrists into his big hand, tying them to the headboard with the other. The mix of the situation and my lack of sleep made me light-headed; "Rome," I mewled out against his chest, looking up to try to meet his eyes. I let out a quiet hiss as he tightened the tie around my wrists, watching as he made sure there wasn't much wiggle room.

This was something new. 

"Perfect," Roman said, mostly to himself, before taking my face into his hands to press a wet kiss against my lips. "Fuck, this is perfect... Let's just stay like this forever, hm?"

My heart fluttered, and I had to swallow rather hard as he made his way down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses along my body. It was hard to say no to a man towering well over six feet dressed in a ridiculously expensive suit. I squirmed against my restraints, my lashes fluttering as I remembered how sleepy I actually was-- but the tie was tied tightly around my wrists, and there was nowhere for me to go. "Since when do you have the energy to do this at three am?" I tried, hoping to stop my breath from hitching as his hands neared the hem of my shirt.

Roman took his time with giving me a response, his fingers now grazing my bare skin, leaving me shivering with anticipation. "You know you're talking about your husband, right?" he said, pushing my shirt further up as he spoke. "Were three days enough to make you forget that I always have energy for this?"

Before I had the opportunity to answer, Roman leaned down to lick a wet stripe up my stomach. I let out a broken moan, tugging at my restraints once more, squirming beneath him. "Rome, shit--" As he paired his licks up with kisses, I quickly felt my arousal pooling between my legs; there was no going back now.

We had never actually talked about tying me up like this, and I wasn't sure whether this was torturous or pleasurable. All I wanted was to reach down and run my fingers through his hair, tug him closer, feel him-- everything about the denial made me further desperate. 

Seeing as I was dressed for bed, I wasn't wearing a bra; something told me that my husband approved. It didn't take long before my shirt was at my arms, Roman's lips wrapped around an aching bud as he sucked at me. I could only write and moan, feeling completely breathless. "I can't-- Fuck, Roman," 

It felt as though the smell of cigarettes swallowed me whole, dragging me deep into the depths of my arousal. My hips bucked up against him, desperate for more, but all my attempts were shut down when Roman grabbed my hips and pinned me down to the bed. "Behave," he said, a low grunt following as his grip on me tightened. 

Hearing that word, I knew I was screwed. It suddenly became very, very apparent that Roman was in one of those moods-- this was usually the side of him that would come out when he felt like everything around him was spinning out of control, meaning he had to control the only thing he felt he could; me. 

And with me being tied up and all, I couldn't help but comply. 

"Sweetheart?" Roman shifted, making sure he had my attention before he sat up. Slowly, his hand inched down to his zipper, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips. "I've had such a tough day, and seeing you like this is really making it all feel better... But I wanna see how pretty you look with your lips around my cock."

The teasing tone in his low voice was enough to drive me crazy. Along with that, the proper look about him had me struggling to breathe. There was something tantalizing about the fact that America's youngest CEO was right here, married to me, wanting and needing me. So when Roman unzipped his trousers, leading his hard cock to my mouth, I gladly accepted it.

I slid just the tip of my tongue up the underside, so light he could barely feel it-- it was mostly just the sensation of my breath. Judging by the sound of Roman's breath hitching and the slight twitch of his cock, I knew I was on the right track. I gave the tip a gentle kiss before giggling to myself, not having to look up to know he was blushing. "For fuck's sake," he breathed, reaching down to grab a full fist of my hair, pulling me closer. 

This was his way of politely saying please.

So I gave in, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock, sucking him in, and tasting the drop of pre-cum that immediately landed on my tongue. It was followed by a downright lewd moan from Roman, who loosened the grip on my hair before throwing his head back just a little. I couldn't help but glance up at him, so prim and proper in his suit, yet completely unraveled by the slightest touch. 

And since my hands were tied and I couldn't touch him, I reveled in the fact that I could taste him. Which is why, when Roman pulled out of my mouth with a rather wet pop, I pouted up at him as he made his way back down. But my pout quickly faded as my lips parted, my breath escaping me as he rubbed the tip of his cock over my chest. "You're too damn pretty," Roman said as he stroked himself at the sight of me. "Do you want my mouth on you before we go?"

"Yes, please," The ache between my legs almost burned-- there was nothing I wanted more in the world.

It didn't take long before Roman tucked himself back into his pants and moved down my body with eager kisses, and the anticipation nearly had me panting so hard that I was sure I might pass out. But the tension in my body quickly dissolved as Roman pulled my pyjama shorts aside, licking a wet stripe up my sex, which made my back arch off the bed. My hands strained against the tie, letting out a weak groan-- I was dying to bury my hands in his hair. 

"You're already so wet," Roman purred, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit. "Could've fucked you already." His fingers dug into my hips to hold me down, sucking me in as his lips covered my mound. It felt so intense, that I could barely hear my own thoughts; I heaved in sharp breaths of air, squeezing my eyes shut as I struggled against my restraints. It only got worse when Roman's tongue slid over my sopping entrance, entering me, fucking me-- I was sure I was dreaming.

It was too much. Especially when he cupped my breasts, pinching my nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. I could only cry out, my fingers gripping harshly around the tie. My overstimulation washed over me like a wave, and I was sure it was due to my lack of sleep. "Roman, please, I can't... I want you in me-- A-Aah," I couldn't stop the way my hips bucked against him, nor the way my gaze darted down to watch his eyes falling shut as he savoured me, his thick, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

Thankfully, my husband wasn't in the mood to keep me on the edge tonight. Roman got up, a knowing smirk spreading across his slicked lips. "I might have to tie you up like this more often," he said, palming himself through his suit. "This is quite the sight."

From his perspective, I could understand this-- it wasn't every day that he saw his wife splayed out like this, t-shirt draped just above her bare chest, and completely at his mercy. On the other hand, I was sure I had gotten just as good of a bargain. I had been begging Roman to fuck me in one of his suits, and here he was, finally complying. If this wasn't love, then I couldn't be sure. 

"Oh, you should see yourself," I purred, biting back a grin. "Mr. CEO... All mine."

Roman let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss against my lower abdomen as he pulled off my pyjama bottoms. "Always been yours,"

I could only sigh, feeling a surge of warmth coursing through my veins. At the end of the day, it was true-- Roman was mine, and I was his. Bonded together through our testimony, before the law, and before all things celestial. Everything about this would've been perfect if I wasn't bonded to the bed as well. My wrists were starting to ache, but I didn't have much time to think about that as I felt Roman entering me, a low grunt escaping him. I couldn't help but shudder, feeling the familiar stretch and fullness I had been craving for so long, and I struggled against my restraints as I cried out in pleasure.

Roman kept one hand planted on my hip, the other one gripping hard at my thigh. Seeing the expression on his face was nearly enough to make me moan-- Fuck, how I had missed this. The feeling of his cock inside me, the feeling of his hands on me, and being completely at his mercy. He had thankfully learned to be a little gentle with me at the start, and I felt his green eyes on me as I closed mine, lips parting at the sensation of feeling him thrust into me with slow strokes. Heaven, heaven-- it was impossible that such pleasure could be dealt by the hands of a devil. 

"Shit," Roman's hands gripped my waist, a need growing with each pump of his cock. He was so damn gorgeous, his sharp jawline twitching as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. It didn't take long before he grew impatient-- he shifted, the next snap of his hips digging his cock completely to the hilt in my warmth, a soft moan escaping him as my walls fluttered around his length.

My breath hitched, letting out a string of curse words. "Rome, please," The tie around my wrists was starting to drive me mad; "I want-- A-Ah, wanna touch you..."

I wasn't sure whether Roman was hearing me or not, his lips parting in pleasure. Eventually, he leaned forward, his mouth crashing onto mine, holding me close as I moaned against him between kisses. Now that he was even closer, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and feel the fabric of his suit against my body, fulfilling my deepest fantasy. "Please," I breathed, my back arching as his cock brushed past my sweet spot. "Rome, please..."

I could feel him smirk against my mouth, and Roman pulled back to watch the absolute desperation swimming in my eyes. "What was that?" As he waited for my response, he pulled out until only the tip of him remained in me.

For fuck's sake-- "Please!" I cried, struggling against my restraints. "I can't... I can't--"

A sense of victory flashed through Roman's green eyes, traces of a darker satisfaction spreading across his lips as he thrust all the way back into me, watching me writhe and moan beneath him, fighting the urge to rip the tie to shreds to embrace him. "Fine," he said, leaning forward to clasp my wrists, smirking as his breath landed hot against my lips.

A moan mixed in with the sigh I let out, my hands immediately flying up into his hair as the tie was tossed away somewhere on the floor. Roman laughed against the kiss I dragged him into, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his lap, his cock still in me. "That was so much fun," he purred against my lips, grabbing my ass to drive me up and down along his slicked length. "We're doing that again."

"Fuck you," I pulled Roman tightly against my chest, feeling his arms snake themselves around me with the same intensity. It hit me how much I loved the feeling of him against me, how warm he was today, and how insanely hot he looked in that damn suit. Our lips came together in open, soft kisses, breathing against each other as our eyes locked, intense pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Roman was most certainly not the devil, and I could confidently conclude with that. However, I couldn't deny that he liked to play the most devilish games at the most inappropriate times-- but I had never loved my husband more than I did at this moment, right now. 

[iid-smile]

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

sent straight from... hell, with a cigarette in hand , chapter two

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: smoking, profanity, money talk, odd conversation, just a lot of smoking

author's note: its hard trying to build on a characters story when you havent got it written out on paper (like me) lol font make this mistake because building as you go is painful

at last, night was just around the corner.

you put megumi to bed as soon as you could, despite the high risk that he'll be the one waking you up in the morning and not the other way around.

you're well aware you should quit smoking, for your sake and his, but you just can't. it takes so much weight off of your shoulders, even if it's just for a few hours, or maybe even minutes. it brings peace to your mind, but it's more like you can't think at all rather than having the negative thoughts pushed out.

and here, you find yourself around the back of the slummy apartment block, holding your last three cigarettes in your hand. multiple times have you peered up at your floor, checking through the window that the light to your son's bedroom remains off. you know that he's well-behaved, but sometimes kids just get up to the oddest things when their parents aren't around; if you even consider yourself worthy enough to be one.

the only lighter you have seems to have enough fluid, but it's hard to say when there's little to no lampposts in this area. on top of that, it's windy, so if the flame keeps blowing out... you're doomed.

and wow, would you look at that! every time you press on the pusher, the little beam of joy that sprouted out just had to be blown out. better yet, it's completely dead now. there's no store within a walking distance that you could reach in time, and you sure as hell don't want to be knocking around on doors when your neighbours know you have a kid.

addiction sure is scary.

"bloody hell..." you mutter, your head throwing back onto the concrete wall behind you. it hurt, but the rising irritation burning up in your throat was worse. way worse. perhaps this is a sign..?

"need a light?"

one of your eyes open and gaze off to the right, only to see a tall-ish silhouette of a man. your eyes squint, and a scowl quickly overcomes your face, ready to scare him off if need be. "who are you?"

"just call me..." the mystery man hums for a moment, hands in pockets as he steps closer to you. "kong. mr kong." you can tell he's got a smile, or what you'd (not) like to think is a smirk, and he comes up to lean against the wall beside you.

automatically, you shift over to create a wider gap between the two of you, and you cross your arms in defence. "well, mr kong, i don't appreciate you approaching me in the middle of the night."

"and i don't appreciate your attitude either, missy. for someone who looks so distressed, you really don't seem to want what you're craving, do you?" he says, his tone awfully amused.

is that a threat? sounds like a threat to you. and it definitely sounds like it's got multiple layers to it. "i don't want shit from you." you bark back.

"oh, really?" in the corner of your eye, you watch as he takes out a cigarette box, placing one in between his teeth. "then, don't mind me." he turns his head away from you, and a quiet flick flick commences. the thick gust of smoke wafting into the air was only a dream for you at the moment.

this guy... this mr kong guy... he's teasing you. he dares to come into your personal space, and rub it in your face that he's got a lit cigarette and you don't. something bubbles in your throat, like you're salivating at the thought of your mouth running dry. you have to. "wait, actually—"

"exactly." the tab in your hand was tightly pinched between your middle and index finger, and he takes it upon himself to press a fire against the butt. "let's handle this like adults, yeah?"

as anticipated, your face immediately lights up. this is a sign! weird strangers that approach you in the middle of the night are the best sources for a light! and he's got money too, you can tell by the design. chic and sleek, black, gold accents. rich guys usually go for things like that, right? with no ring on his finger, you're going to try butter him up.

you gaze at him, trying to find anything to talk about, but you could only notice his appearance. tall, stubble, suit. the surname kong doesn't really sound japanese... maybe he's not from here. that would be disrespectful to ask though. the sound of his sighs and mumbles catches your attention, and you immediately pounce at the opportunity. "are you stressed?"

"definitely. got a man-child on my hands. will not stop whining about how much he misses his wife." mr kong groans again, his free hand coming to loosen his tie.

you tilt your head more at him. "and the wife in question is...?"

"no, it's him that's away. locked away, to be precise." he's staring off at nothing, mindlessly repeating his actions. "he's always visibly disappointed when it's me visiting and not her. it's not like she ever will anyway, so he should give it up."

rapid fire questions are the way to go. "what did he go in for?"

"a lot of things." another pause as he takes a drag, sighing again as he takes a glance at you. "something a woman like you shouldn't hear." ...rapid fire was cut short.

rude and assuming... also, that's the second time kong guy here has said something suspicious. you can't even be mad, not when you want to milk some money out of him. hell, even that little light he gave you could've cost a whole ten thousand yen note. you've got nothing else to ask.

"got kids, by any chance?" he asks inquisitively, or maybe trying to fill for the silence, a question for you.

"a little boy. well... he won't be so little anymore soon." your eyes drifts down to the ground, and you fiddle with a little strand of hair that was within your sight. "he's only got me, i've only got him."

"and the father?"

and tell him that your ex-husband also coincidentally went to prison for bad things too? yeah, no. "...gone."

"unfortunate." mr kong seems to be trying to find something else to look at, having used up all of what was in front of him. "you live here?"

"yep." you shouldn't even try to deny it. surely he saw you glancing up at the windows multiple times, even before he came up to you. there's no point in lying.

when he turns back to you, his eyebrow raises; he's amused again. "you really make me pity you, missy. it's not often that i feel that way."

now he's looking down on you?

it's like as soon as you heard that word pity, you saw dollar signs blinding your eyes. "...think you could help me out? some bills and stuff?" shit, you're asking too early! so shameless about it too.

not only was your kiss ass attempt obvious, you're asking a random man that you don't even know for financial help. you're seriously vulnerable to scammers.

"sure."

"what?"

"i said sure."

"but i didn't even—"

mr kong chuckles, mockingly too. "money always comes with a price. just be ready for it." with that, he stomps out his used up cigarette, walking off as he lights himself a new one.

he's too trusting, or you're signing yourself up for something dangerous. either way, it's like he was aware you would accept no matter the conditions. does this guy know you already or what? and when the hell will you be able to see him again?

no... he's familiar.

taglist: open!

@iheartlinds @ssetsuka

[virgolixx]

Hey can I have some angst with Sanji and Ace being given news of their S/O being killed in a fight and then later on finding the S/O alive and asleep healing from their wounds

Head Cannon:

:How would these One piece men react when given the news of their S/O’s death to later finding out they are alive and recovering in their sleep:

Sanji, Ace

Theme: Angst💀

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji:

Sanji is completely and utterly shocked when Zoro tells him with a face laced with guilt and sadness, that you have been killed and thrown over a cliff.

Angry that Zoro might be pulling some sick joke on him, he shakes him harshly and yells at him to cut the crap. Turning to Nami Sanji yells to tell him that it’s not true. Once the fear start to set in Sanji yells for you.

Until realizing you’re actually gone, Sanji falls to his knees sobbing uncontrollably. Chopper, Nico and Usopp are trying to console Sanji, while the others have tears as well.

What do you mean you’re gone? The person he planned his entire future with, how you both would get married, start a family one day, to spending the of your lives together.

Sanji would loose him self entirely, he would lose his interest to keep himself presentable, he would barely sleep at all. Sanji would cook all your favorite meals to make it seem as if you were still with the crew, with him.

It’s been a week, and entire week since your passing, the crew have been in mourning that they haven’t set sail yet, but with not being in the mood for parties, the villagers simply left the straw hats gifts as gratitude for freeing them from the bandits.

The sun was starting to set, tomorrow afternoon the straw hats set sail. Not feeling any appetite for food Sanji is on the ships deck smoking, watching as the sun sets. Looking down Sanji felt tears fall. Until he heard a older woman calling for him.

From the panic of searching for someone, the older woman calms down a bit when realizing she’s found the straw hat pirates. The older woman tells Sanji about the young woman she’s found injured when she was out gathering herbs.

Shocked Sanji runs to the crew and drags them out to the older lady, leaving at once in anticipation to reach the older lady’s secluded house in the forest.

Once reaching your side, Sanji is holding you hand while giving it kisses as tears are falling from his eyes. Chopper is checking you for good measure and tells Sanji you’ll be perfectly fine and just need rest. While the others are crying tears of joy that you are safe and alive.

Once composed Sanji makes a feast in the old lady’s home as a way to show his gratitude that she took care of you, his love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace:

Ace is numb, his entire world has slowed, more like froze. Marco is the one who showed ace the news paper of your “death”. How those battle events brought you and luffy (plus his crew) together to fight those snobbish nobles to free the slaves.

If it were under different circumstances Ace would have loved that you and luffy have met, to see his two favorite people in the whole world talking and getting to know each other .

Once his emotions hit him, he falls to the floor balling his eyes out as he yells your name, as the others are crying them selves, white beards kneels before Ace and engulfs him in a hug.

Ace would loose him self, he’d loose his appetite to eat, he would also drink quite a lot and barely sleep. Ace would spend most of his nights on the tallest mast of the Moby Dick just watching the starry night.

It’s been a month, and it’s been so fucking hard for ace to heal, yes he’s eating now but he misses your warmth as you laid beside him in bed. Craves for your touch, to hear your voice. He honestly just can’t seem to sleep anymore.

It’s about to be 12 pm and the Thousand Sunny sails up beside the anchored Moby Dick, laughing happily luffy greets the pirates as he raised your vivre card up in the air. Talking to white beard luffy shows your vivre card, with your special signature that only white beard and ace know about.

Extremely hopeful to see your card entact white beard and the rest of his crew listen as Robin explains what happened when you and the straw hat pirates saved the slaves, how you go seriously injured because you blocked any attacks directed to the slaves.

Though with much effort Chopper saved your live and you have been in a short coma over the month with only recently waking the day before. The pirates all call up at ace in a happy cry, lost in thought Ace ignores everyone’s voice even his own brother’s yelling, only does he react once he hears a specific voice.

Your voice. You call for him looking up at him with your arms extended out with tears falling from your eyes, just as he looks down at you with wide eyes. In a frenzy Ace rushes over to your side and engulfs you in a tight hug his face in the crook of your neck taking in your warmth and scent.

The rest of the crew have tears of joy in their eyes, and you hear white beard welcoming you back home, for the rest of the day white beard has ordered a feast in honor of the straw hats for saving your life and for bringing you home.

All the while ace has been glued to your side holding you as you ate and happily spoke to luffy.

[volvaofowls]

Mayans crushing on/ being infatuated with a younger reader

This is my first time writing for Mayans. I know there are many fans of the show but I feel like there is not enough people writing for it and showing it love.  

Note:  I roughly guessed what the guys ages would be at the beginning of the series based on their apperance and actors' ages. I would love to know how old you think they are!

Bishop – 49  

Taza – 62  

Tranq – 44  

Riz – 37  

Creeper – 41  

Gilly – 36  

Coco – 34  

Angel – 30  

Ez – 26 

Bishop – He didn’t have any qualms about his attraction to you in the beginning. Walking up to you when you were at the clubhouse and flirting with you, saying it was good to see you around. He didn't think too much about it, he likes the way he feels when you are responding to him in a positive way. Bishop lies to himself, he doesn’t purposefully seek you out in the crowd, but Taza points it out for him - "Don't worry Prez, your girl is outside, having a smoke with Gilly". - And that phrase hits him; the fact that someone has noticed his interest in you, and more so called you "his girl" - that spreads warmth in his chest. He wants you to be his girl, but he is not sure how you feel about it. Sure you reciprocate his attention, smile at him and spend more time with him than other members of MC, but it doesn't mean you want anything more with him than friendship. The age gap is large, Bishop could be your father; and the potential comments that would follow make him shrudder, yet the thought of you in his arms makes him think that he could deal with being the butt of the jokes for some time.

Taza – Taza thought that love is not for him anymore. But the familiar butterflies are starting to dance in his belly again when you laugh at his joke. He loves the feeling of it, but the moment he realises it he gets scared. He is not ready for it, he didn’t think it is possible, he is too old and commited too many sins to be rewarded with these emotions. Taza wonders what he can possibly offer you? His life is filled with violence and loneliness.But then he takes out his phone and sees your name across the screen Che thinks that maybe he can give it a try.  

Tranq – Tranq is a rough man, for the majority of his life he had only his mother and the club. He is "El Pacificador", a giant of a man, always in the epicentre of fights. Even though he is not the loudest and meanest in the club he thinks he might be too imposing for you, scare you away. Let alone the fact that he is in his 40's. Still, when he is next to you Hank’s increased heart beat drowns out the doubts. Against his wishes the softer side of him comes out. The way you lean on Tranq's shoulder when you are tipsy, or when you ask specifically for his help with your car makes him feel special, and he never wants to let go of this feeling. Quite the opposite, he feels insatiable, he is hungry for your affection and Hank wants more of it. He is not a greedy man, he shares everything in life with his club, but you are someone Hank wants to keep all to himself.

Riz – Michael has been disillusioned with life long ago, many people in his life shunned him; only in the brotherhood of Mayans did he find the solace. Riz craves love, family and companionship is something he always secretly wanted. Maybe that's why he was always a ladies man - trying to fill a void in his life with someone, something. When he met you for the first time, it was hard to avert his eyes from you. You were like the smell of rain in summer before the thunder strikes, Riz felt that when you stepped into the clubhouse you brought change with you, and it was just for him, and he welcomes this feeling with an open heart.

Riz knows he likes what he is seeing and he wants you to like him as well. He just needs his chance to prove that he can make it work, and he does what he does best, trying to smooth talk you. Offering you a drink and showering in compliments. He wants you to have a good time with him, he sure does with you. Once you jokingly called him an "old man", Riz quickly shot back that he prefers "daddy" instead, laughing at your shy expression. Age is not a problem for him, not when it comes to you and what the two of you could have, and he is willing to show it to you.

Creeper – Creeper didn’t really think that romantic love was for him. Since childhood there was nothing but darkness staining his life, like he is punished for doing something in his past life and can never repent. So Neron never expects gifts from live; he takes, but only gives. He gives his loyalty and time to his club and he gives his love to you, Creeper doesn't feel like he is allowed to receive any back from you.

Neron feels disgusted with himself and his want for you. You are almost too clean for him, Creeper doesn't have the right to mess you up. He tries to avoid you, but it’s as if you are always seeking him out, sipping on water with him at the parties, forgoing the alcohol. All the time you are asking him about his tattoos, and one time while planning your own you reach out and touch his forearm where a faces of women are depicted. Neron feels burned, but its amazing, he wants to keep your hands there, on him, interested in him. He is scared of rejection, he wants your love, he is ready to trade anything in his poor life in order to be yours.

Gilly – Gilly is know for “disarming” ladies, but it was a shock to him when you swooped into his heart and disarmed him. This young woman, too young for him comes and can out-do him in telling dirty jokes? Who are you? And you are playfully offering to arm-wrestle him, losing instantly. But he loves it, he feels like a teenager again, trying to show off infront of you. You have him wrapped around your finger and you don't even realise it. Other guys are teasing him in good fun, but when one day Coco jokes “you better act up brother or all the younger ones will steal her from under your old nose” Gilly laughs with him but it makes him think “oh shit…. I don’t wanna lose her to anyone”.

Coco – He was a little apprehensive at first about his feelings for you. You have less of an age difference with Letty than with him. He thinks that what he is feeling for you is wrong, even if you are a grown person. Coco always tried to stay away from the things that he cares for, it’s easier that way, he doesn't hurt anyone but only himself that way. You are precious to him, you care for him and Letty seems to like you. He already made all the guys in the club aware that he is interested in you and not to treat you badly. When members from other charters come and you are there, he makes sure to be near you or to keep an eye on you. You should be treated with the outmost respect and gentleness. Gentleness is a funny word for Coco; mainly because nothing in his life is, but he wants to learn it for you.

Angel – Angel stopped caring what other people think long time ago. He feels like he always has to prove himself to others and its never enough. So when you praise him, Angel can't even stop himself, he is floored. You think he is amazing, and you support him when he has a bad day. You are younger, but he feels like he has to look up to you. You are showing him the way of how to live life without being afraid of rejection. Angel thought he is brave, but he relearns the defenition of it when he is with you. He doesn't see the age gap between you as a boundary, because there is so much you bring to his life. And Angel wants for the first time in his life too repay that affection, he wants to make it his mission to worship you and elevate you. You are his guardian angel.

Ez – He hasn't been lucky in love, EZ knows he falls in love fast and hard, but with you he feels like he is falling even harder. Even though your age gap is not too big, he feels like you have whole life ahead of you, he doesn't want you to be tied to him. There is so much you could be doing, travelling, things that EZ cannot join you on. But he is aching for you to choose him over everything else, although he will never admit it, as it will be too selfish. It feels like his life is fixable when you are together and he doesn’t have to just survive anymore, with you he can live.

[aeoncss]

…some of my personal movie!mike schmidt hcs <3

disclaimer: you dont have to agree, just don’t be an ass. thanks!

tw: parent/sibling death, mentions of insecurity, nightmares, trauma flashbacks, some nsfw (18+!), could be ooc?? idk?? don’t quote me on it

he’s a soft snorer. like the faintest sound comes through at night, and it’s usually when he’s laying on his back. when he’s sick, however, he snores so loud that abby has definitely thrown something at him to be quiet.

used to smoke cigarettes quite heavily. started in high school, then it turned into muscle memory that escalated into a harsh nicotine addiction. the second abby complained about the smell, mike stopped cold turkey, and hasn’t picked up a pack since.

does, occasionally, smoke weed though. usually in his car or in his garage late at night. spends extra time cleaning around and getting the smell out, including doing an extra load of laundry so his clothes don’t reek. it helps him sleep, although doesn’t do much for the nightmares.

mike has one of those huge CD books shoved underneath his passenger seat (it won’t fit in the glove box). it’s filled with many broken disks that are heavily scratched from use, and a lot of them belonged to his father.

he’s so bad at folding. so bad. he either hangs it up super sloppily or straight up just throws his clothes into his closet.

he prefers dogs over cats — although he takes the time to feed one of the neighborhood stray cats that abby has named ‘mr. whiskers’ because that’s gonna become his pet goddamn it

listens to a lot of korn, foo fighters, deftones, and the offspring. mike kinda refuses to play that kind of music in the car with abby around, so he might have grown to subconsciously love spice girls and a*teens as well…

grows insecure when he finds himself in a relationship, feeling like he equally can’t be enough or that he’s doing too much. mike has such a fear of pushing away good things from him, so it takes a lot of reassurance for him to finally understand that he isn’t doing anything wrong.

falls asleep during horror and romance movies. physically just can’t do it.

he can’t ever listen to the romantics ever again. if he hears even a snippet of ‘talking in your sleep’, his body straight up shuts down and mike goes into automatic panic mode.

service switch — really, he just wants to please his partner in any way. he doesn’t have a preference for anything sexually related, but he definitely gets a kick out of how good he can make his lover feel. he might have studied one too many playboys.

he doesn’t really realize how much he craves affection until after he gets into a relationship. whenever his partner leaves for the night, he feels like a piece of him is somehow lost, and he nonstop thinks about how nice it was to just be in their arms — even if it was just for a short moment.

besides the reoccurring nightmare of garrett, mike developed a new one after the events at the pizzeria. he can’t save abby in time, the sound of spring locks echoing deep inside his brain that he wakes up so physically ill. he has to go check in on her to get himself to calm down.

has a few really shitty stick n’ poke tattoos that one of his old high school buddies did while drunk together. he has a little stick figure on the inside of his left wrist, and a horribly disproportionate star on his right.

he’s a moaner. not a loud one, but there has been times where he’s either had to cover up his mouth by a pillow or even by his partners hand. it’s not overtly obnoxious or dramatic, more hushed pants and quick whimpers that escape deep from his throat. when he’s close, that’s when he gets a bit louder, the sound almost guttural.

he really gets a kick out of seeing his partner in his clothes or just doing something in his house. sitting on the couch just TV surfing? he’s hiding behind the doorway to the kitchen just so he can try and get his hard-on to go away.

mike was the type of kid in high school that genuinely did try to pass with good grades, but he just barely managed to scrape by without getting held back from graduation. it’s a regret of his, but understands what was going on during that time.

nicknamed his honda accord ‘marvin’.

really into making out, sometimes preferring it over sex. he likes the closeness and just enjoys the action of kissing — plus, it’s really nice foreplay.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Just read yandere sugar daddy AND GOD!! Plz do part 2. I want to see them dating🫣

One order of Rowan coming right up!

Yandere! Sugar Daddy x "Pure"! Reader part 2

Part 1 here!

An opulent outfit of pure white stood out as it draped on a person in front of a mirror. The hands that caressed it's folds and seams trembled a bit as they tried to calculate the numbers that must have cost to come up with such an intricate piece of clothing. Their face, flushed with a tint of bashfulness, looked like an angel on earth. The way their aura and pure look awed the man sitting on his desk, his eyes ravaging on their form, pure hunger in them.

"You look absolutely stunning, love." His deep voice rang around the dark and dreary office room. "An angel, sent to me, and only me."

His fingers twitched slightly as he grabbed his churchwarden pipe, inhaling a drag and exhaling out the grey, slightly purple smoke that smelled of lavender and mint.

"What do you think? I had to pull quite the strings just to get that dress made." Rowan chuckled a bit. "What did the designer said again? Ah, the sheen on the outfit is apparently crushed pearls and opal."

He had a hard time convincing the dressmaker, but it's nothing a few... Threats won't do.

"It's beautiful..." Your voice let out an airy response, still at awe at how the dress looked good on you.

As you twirled around the mirror that witnessed different sides of your relationship, Rowan observed your form.

He always loved how you stand out of the dark office. You, and your pureness was something he craved, wanted, obsesses with.

Authentic. Uncontaminated.

In his eyes, you were something unattainable, something so holy that he shouldn't dare to even lay his bloodied hands on you.

But he dared to, and he wants to paint your white dress with his red and blacks. His blood, sweat, and tears on your body so soft and refined it's almost too daunting to glance at. He wants to sink his teeth on your untainted flesh.

"Come here, love." Rowan stretched his hand to you and you walked up to him. He whirled you around and made you sit on his lap, resting his chin on your exposed shoulder. His lips, dauntingly pressing against your neck, threatened to place salacious marks of belonging.

That you are only his.

"Stay on my lap, love. I want you close to me as I work." He whispered, his breath hot on your ear as he started to work on his papers.

You only nodded, flushed from head to toe as you tried to focus on something other than him.

You could feel his hardened body, his calm heartbeats, and his deep exhales and inhales as if he was taking in your scent and ingraining it in your mind.

The necklace he bought you before was hanging on his monitor, taken off earlier in order for you to wear the dress much easier.

Were you bored out of your mind? Absolutely. But can you really do anything other than obey the man that spent so much money on you that you swore it can almost make you live up to your 70's without worrying about money and inflation? If you're a brat, probably.

But your nice and innocent nature didn't dare to.

"You know, you can search up things you want to buy, love. If you're bored, at least." Rowan suggested, urging, coaxing. It was weird how he's so adamant at making you spend his money, like it was a weird fetish he had.

You aren't wrong.

You were like an unspoken prayer on his lips, a saint on his sinful tongue he wishes to pleasure and please.

At first, you were always rejecting the idea of spending his money just because you're bored.

But now you didn't even shrug as you daintily grabbed his phone and typed out your birthday as his password and went to an online shop of your liking.

Oh, how he shivered at the sight.

You're tainted with his colors.

His red and blacks.

His greed.

Now, he just wishes for you to get so greedy you wanted more of this relationship.

If not, his efforts of isolating you slowly from your family and friends will be all for naught. And he doesn't like it if his efforts are wasted.

Your fingers hovered over his gallery as you finished your shopping, and you were so tempted.

Usually, he doesn't like it if you try to look at his gallery. It's as if it was totally forbidden to look at it.

But you can't contain your overwhelming (Greedy) curiosity.

So, with a slight twist of your torso, covering the phone, you opened the gallery.

Rowan smirked as he knew what you did, no matter how much you try to hide it.

And as your gasps of fear and shock filled his ears, he chuckled and placed a lustful kiss on your neck. You took the bait.

"Did you like the candid photos of you in your home, love? I especially love the photos of you in your apron." His tongue, the work of the devil, trailed along your jaw as he kissed it. "If you wanted, you could cook for me. Just staying in our home as I shower you with affection and money. And you can just devote yourself to me. As I to you."

Your lips trembled at the suggestion. You wanted to say no. You really do.

You should be creeped out by how he took these photos. It looked like spy cameras. You really should.

But do you, really? But should you, really?

It was so tempting. Like an oasis in the middle of the desert, and you, the unfortunate person to see the mirage and think of it as a haven to rest your weary form on, and not a trap set to ensnare you for life.

And, as your mouth opened to reply, Rowan's lopsided smirk appeared on his devilishly handsome face.

He won.

He finally satisfied his greed, and yours.

[ddejavvu]

so um hi!! i have like this stupid thought and i need to spread it lmao 💀💀 so basically let's say reader is trying to quit cigarettes/vapes ( possibly lets make it modern lol) cause you know its bad and she has like this urge to constantly touch her lips (i saw on tiktok that there is this psychological thing that things touching your lips send postive signals to your brain but its from tiktok so i dont think its valid information lol) but back to the point- so eddie being a loving boyfriend he is to help her with her addiction basically told her to just suck him off every time she gets the urge to smoke

god fuck this is a good idea-

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Eddie glances sideways at you from his spot on the couch, seeing your finger between your lips. You're gnawing at the nail which, like your others, are raw.

"Hey," He chides, reaching out to swat your hand away from your mouth, "Get that outta there."

"Eddie," You whine, crocodile tears lining your eyes, "I need something in my mouth! My nail's the best I've got."

He sympathizes with you, he really does. He'd only quit smoking because of the younger kids he hangs out with, after Dustin developed a chest cough he refrained from smoking around him. The rest was easy, once he'd started cutting back it wasn't hard to continue until he didn't crave any nicotine at all.

"I know it's hard," He flicks pause on the remote, lolling his head to the side to face you, "Why don't you get some candy or something?"

You shake your head vehemently, "No, no, food won't work. I need something, like, solid. Permanent. It's about my lips, not my mouth."

He has an idea. He feels like a children's cartoon, brows dipping and eyes narrowing, lips curling into a smirk. You notice the expression and stall, quirking one of your own brows up.

"Eddie...?"

"Get on your knees."

He relishes the reveal, the reality of his idea hitting you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth drops open and it only makes him tease you more, 'That's the idea.'

"Eddie," You follow his orders, sliding tentatively off the couch and landing on your knees, "'You sure?"

"Why would I say no?" He snickers, fingers already prying at his jeans to unfurl the zipper, "Go ahead, sweetheart."

You reach for his boxers, lightly palming him over the fabric. He relaxes his posture, eyes locked onto your kneeling form. It doesn't take him long to stiffen, between your touch and the view he has.

You can't help but chuckle, "You're excited."

"You need my dick in your mouth or else you'll start biting your fingers off," Eddie sneers, sensitive not only to touch but to teasing, "Don't insult me."

"Sor-ry," You huff, dipping your neck to kitten lick at the head of his cock, "I didn't even ask for this, y'know. You were the one who-"

Eddie jerks his hips upwards, cutting you off by jamming his cock between your lips. He doesn't hit the back of your throat but you gag all the same, eyes widening as tears well in your waterline.

"Desperate and mouthy," Eddie drawls, condescending grin on his face, "Get your fix, babe, 'cause if you keep talking back I'll zip up."

[atarathegreat]

Shuji's Habit Headcanon

You never failed to make it known that you didn't like Shuji smoking. It was almost a fact more well known than the sun rising and yet, Shuji couldn't make himself care about it. He did his best to avoid blowing the smoke in your face or letting it drift towards you, he never asked you if you wanted a drag or your own cigarette.

It started as him being a stupid kid, running off with his moms pack of cigs to show off to some older boys. They called his bluff, made him smoke the whole pack. Shuji swears he never felt more pain, that he'll never forget the burn and sting the cancerous cloud caused in his throat. He stuck around with the group, smoking everyday after school until it inevitably became something he craved. It was like his skin wanted to peel itself back and reveal every muscle and fiber beneath when he didn't have a cigarette, sometimes he'd get itchy and scratch hard enough to break his skin and bleed. You worried about him, a middle schooler with a nicotine addiction that looked frazzled as he approached you each afternoon to walk you home.

Shuji was lost, you could see that much. The group of boys stopped collecting in the same place and he couldn't find them, leaving him, once again, with only you as a friend and zero cigarettes to sedate the bugs under his nails. You hated seeing him in such a state, and despite the notion that he would get better given time, you paid older kids to buy you packs of cigarettes so you could pass them to Shuji. Every teacher asked if you were okay, noticing the way you seemed anxious during your classes. You'd tucked the cardboard death trap in your school bag, planning to give them to your friend after the school day ended.

He was excited, shouting and swinging you around as you cupped the troublesome item in your hands. That was the day he swore he loved you, the one who hated what he did but fed it to him from your palm. As he took you home, the norm for after your day so you wouldn't get into trouble, Shuji walked on your right (as he typically chose to walk next to the road, something he called the sidewalk rule) so that the fumes wouldn't drift back and assault your nose.

When you try to convince him to quit he protests and whines, a cocky smirk on his lips as he claims you'll never know he's around if he didn't smell of cigarettes and gun powder. Each time you have no choice but to give up, it's obvious he's too far gone in the tobacco shavings to have any rational thought of ending his streak. Not for nothing, though, as he does take your emotions to heart and slows down. Instead of a single pack lasting two days, it's stretched to three, four on good weeks. Shuji is proud, too proud to let you have the final say, and there's nothing he loves more than the occasional grimace you send his way when you kiss him and taste the cigs just a little too much, or you enter his office and have to wave your hand to breathe freely.

[heartfullofleeches]

What if incel reader wants to turn a new leaf but V is making that extremely hard since he's fueling reader's gaming addiction and reader decides to leave him, albeit very reluctantly

(Angst time)

[Guys, I just got my first job! Didn't think anything would come in so soon since I just got my degree. Dont know when I'll have the time to log on, but I'll miss you. Take care.]

It happened again. This is exactly why you rarely played multiplayer anymore. Time and time again, people would detail their milestones in life, never to be seen again. New career. A baby. The list went on and on and on. It made you think about your life. Quitting your job and leeching off someone who gave you his all to play video games nearly twenty four hours a day. It's pathetic. You're pathetic- but you dont want things to stay this way.

You tried so hard to turn yourself around. Applying to jobs in the area, cutting back on your time online. The jobs never got back to you and V would remind you of a new dlc coming to a game you loved, pulling you right back in. V. You don't want to admit it. You wished for a reality where it wasn't true, but he was your biggest obstacle. His care, as well meaning as it was, was weighing you down and leaving you forever a shell of the person you were growing to be. If you wanted to get better, you'd have to let him go.

"H-hey, V. There's something I need to talk to you about. Before I start, I need to say that it isn't you. I love you, but I can't do this. Maybe, in a few years we can meet up and start over, but for now I-"

You choke. Tears flow in your reflection. You break down, crying over the bathroom sink for the millionth time. Even in practice, you can't stop yourself from falling apart. Your cries rebound against the walls, through the crack in the door where angry eyes watch as you wilt away on the bathroom floor. They're torn between comforting you, and breaking your computer to atoms. As much as it bound you to him, V always knew there was a possibility that it could tear you apart just as easily. He decides to take the third option, and quietly leaves the house.

-

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK."

V slams his fist into the steering wheel. He claws at his skin, picking at his filth ridden body and attempting to relieve his air flow as he hyperventilates. You can't leave him. You can't. He can't go back to watching you from afar, wondering how you feel beneath his touch. Having that beautiful grin directed at him. He felt horrible to see you in so much pain, but he refused to accept fault. To let you go. He just had to ease up, give you some of the freedom you so desperately craved.

-

You're sitting on the couch when he finally returns home. He uncharacteristically quiet. You rise, chewing on your lips.

"V, I-"

He hugs you. "It's okay."

Your eyes water. "No, it's not."

"I was here earlier..." He squeezes you tighter. "I heard everything you said."

By the way he shakes, you can tell he's crying too.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be... Let me help you."

"How can you possibly help?"

"My parents. They own a company. We can get you a job. Mail room, office work, it doesn't matter. We can switch off on the housework, go out more. Please...."

"I don't want to lose you, Y/n."

You crumble, sobbing like a baby as you cling onto him and use his shirt to catch your tears. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You've done so much for me and I was just going to leave."

V hushes you and rubs circles into your back. "It's okay, baby. You'll get better and everything will be okay. Okay?"

You sniffle as he wipes and kisses away your tears. "Okay..."

"Good. I'm gonna go take a quick smoke, but while I do, you go get dressed so we can actually go out tonight. Sound good?"

"Yeah.." You smile a bit. "It does."

"Good." V kisses your forehead and you part ways. Walking outside and leaning against the railing, he pulls put his phone and dials a number. What he didn't expect was an answer on the first ring."

"Hey, Mom?... Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Can you give my partner a job? Nothing too crazy, just something to keep them on their toes. Give them a couple promotions maybe, then fire them in a few months. The cameras in the main building are up to date, right?"

[moonstruckme]

Hii honey!! I hope you’re doing good, would you be willing to write about the reader trying to quit smoking weed and either Sirius or Remus helps her through it <3. I’m currently on day 2 of quitting and it’s SO HARD, but it’ll be good for me

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! Hope quitting is going okay for you, I've heard the first week is the worst but I'm rooting for you!

cw: weed (reader isn't smoking but is around people who are), reader has hair long enough to reach her neck

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 844 words

The sound of Marlene flicking her lighter reaches you like a siren’s call. You can hear it from across the room, your head turning towards her automatically. She raises a blunt to her lips, smoke pluming from between them a moment later. You know it’s impossible, but you think you can smell it already. You breathe in like you can taste it. 

“I’m spent.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it’s coming from faraway, but his hand wrapping around your thigh is solid. It brings you back to your side of the room, where your boyfriend’s looking at you with a jovial grin and a knowing flicker in his eyes. “You ready to head out, gorgeous?” 

“I could stay longer if you want to,” you say, trying to tell him it’s okay. Even if there’s an insistent tugging in your middle, a familiar ache in your lungs, dying to bring you to where Marlene sits. 

Sirius doesn’t hesitate. “No, I think I’d rather get you to myself.” 

James groans for show, but his expression is fond as he watches Sirius pull you up from the couch and tug you playfully into his side. He loves seeing his best friend in love; he’s told you directly more than once. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. “Rem’s off somewhere with Lily, but I’ll make sure he’s up in time.” 

“We could always push until the afternoon,” Sirius tries, grabbing both of your jackets from where they’re slung across the back of the couch. You feel a bit like you’re in a daze, the headache that’s been pestering you all day suddenly an insistent throb. 

“Fat chance.” James waves you both off with a laugh. “See you bright and early, Pads.” 

“Wanker,” Sirius mutters as you turn away, but he doesn’t stop to argue further, guiding you out of the party while you both call hasty goodbyes to your friends. When Marlene raises her hand in a wave, your vision narrows on the blunt between her fingers as you smile in reply. 

Outside, the night air is fresh and pleasantly cool. Goosebumps skitter up your arms, and you take your jacket from Sirius, letting him hold your bag while you shrug it on. 

“I thought we might walk home,” he says, watching you with something hidden in his expression as you pull your hair out of your collar and take your bag back. “Does that sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you agree, starting in the direction of Sirius’ place. Walking is good for your head when the cravings are bad like this, you’ve found. Your boyfriend knows this. “Thanks for getting me out of there.” 

He falls into stride beside you, slipping a hand into your back pocket like that’s where it belongs. “Figured I ought to do my part in keeping you out of trouble.” 

You huff a laugh. “Doesn’t sound much like you.” 

“I know.” Sirius’ nose wrinkles. Somehow he manages to make even that look pretty. “Look what you’re doing to me, sweetheart. I’m disgusted with myself.” 

You roll your eyes, and he grins, squeezing your butt playfully through your pants. Your laughter rings out sharply on the quiet street. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” you assure him. “You and your friends are still terrible influences on me.” 

Sirius gasps loudly. His hand slips from your back pocket and he fists both in the front of your jacket, a grin slicing across his face as he yanks you closer. “That so?” he asks in a low voice.

It’s impossible to keep your own lips from curving. “Mhm.” 

“I resent these accusations. We’ve just left a house full of saints. You can see their halos glowing right above their heads.” 

“Then you’ve had more to drink than I thought.” 

Sirius’ laugh rings out, loud and stomach-flipping. He kisses you soundly with a smile on his face, fingers still bunched in your jacket. “Really,” he says, slipping an arm around your waist as you start walking again, “do you want me to tell Marls not to smoke around you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking it outside.” 

You take a deep breath. Remind yourself that the air clearing your head instead of muddling it is a good thing. “No, that’s alright. I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” 

Sirius makes an agreeable humming sound. He presses a kiss to your temple. “Proud of you, sweetheart.” 

You huff a laugh, though the words start a pleasant buzzing in your chest. “Sap.” 

“Don’t tell Jamie.” 

“Oh, I’m telling him.” 

“No,” Sirius says firmly, as if you can’t hear the laughter in his tone, “it’s only for you. If you tattle on me I’ll have to stop doing it.” 

You roll your eyes, going quiet. It’s not so much an aquiescence as a contented silence, but you let your boyfriend take it for what he will. He squishes you up against his side fondly. 

“I am, you know,” he says, voice softening with sincerity. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You suppose that for now, that can be enough for you.

[ruewrote]

𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 . . .

PAIRING: sadier adler x fem!reader WARNINGS: forbidden love, suggestive, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: everytime by ariana grande WORD COUNT: 1k NOTE: disappointed in myself that i haven't written for her sooner

navigation | ask | red dead redemption masterlist

The fire crackled low, The evening air hung heavy with the scent of pine and smoke, yet it was nothing compared to the weight pressing down on your chest. You sat apart from the others, distant but within reach of the fire's warmth. In truth, there was only one source of warmth you craved, a warmth you knew you shouldn’t long for.

Across the camp, her gaze met yours. Sadie Adler. The outlaw. The gunslinger. The woman who had somehow slipped beneath your defenses without either of you meaning to. Her presence drew you in, even when you knew you should’ve been running in the opposite direction. 

Her eyes lingered on you, deep and unreadable, but in the brief moment your gazes locked, you felt it, the silent understanding, the shared guilt, and the ache.

It shouldn’t be this way. It shouldn’t feel this way.

You turned away, pulling your jacket tighter around your body as if it could shield you from the intensity of what you were feeling. It wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to crave someone like this, nevermind a woman.

to feel like your entire being was tethered to hers, especially when the world you lived in would never understand. The two of you were outlaws in more ways than one, the weight of it was suffocating.

But it didn't quite stop the longing. 

The quiet moments, when no one else was looking, were the hardest. A lingering glance when you passed by, her hand brushing yours for just a second too long. Those stolen glances told stories neither of you were brave enough to say aloud. 

A fire ignited in your chest each time she was near, but with that fire came a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of why this could never be.

You saw Sadie shift, rising from where she sat, making her way toward the edge of camp. Her stride was purposeful, but the way her fingers tightened at her sides betrayed the restraint she was forcing upon herself.

Her usual air of confidence faltered when she glanced at you again, and something inside you snapped. You stood, heart thudding painfully in your chest, following her before you could second guess yourself.

The moonlight broke through the trees as you approached her near the clearing, bathing her in a soft, silver glow. She didn’t turn around, but she knew you were there. The tension between you stretched thin, threatening to unravel at any moment.

“Y’know this ain’t right,” she muttered, her voice low and rough, as if speaking the truth aloud made it more real. 

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing larger. “I know.”

She finally turned to face you, and the raw emotion in her eyes made your stomach churn. Sadie was strong, fierce, independent. She had survived so much. loss, pain, the unforgiving brutality of this world. But standing here, in the quiet of the night with only you to bear witness, her walls fell down. 

For a moment, there was no such thing as outlaws, no gunslingers. Just Sadie, the woman who longed for something she couldn’t have. Just you, the person who wanted her more than she could bear.

“We can’t do this,” she continued, but her words trembled. 

You took a step closer, drawn to her despite every reason not to be. “I know.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. whatever it was between you, could never be without consequences. It was dangerous, reckless, and everything you shouldn’t want.

And yet, you did. So did she.

The space between you grew smaller, until you were standing so close you could feel the heat of her body, her breath ghosting across your skin. You could see the struggle in her eyes, the same that mirrored your own. Sadie’s fingers twitched at her sides, like she wanted to reach out and pull you closer, but something held herself back.

“I can’t–” she started, but the rest of her words died in the air, her voice cracking under the weight of it all.

You hesitated only for a moment, before reaching up to gently place your hand on her arm. The contact sent a jolt through you, and her breath hitched in response. It was a small, almost innocent touch, but it was enough to break whatever fragile restraint she had left.

Before you knew it, her lips were on yours. desperate, hungry, and full of all the things neither of you had been able to say. The kiss was messy, fueled by the ache that had been building between you for weeks, maybe even months.

It was everything you had both wanted and everything you knew you shouldn’t have. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

Her hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her body as if she was afraid you might disappear if she let go. You melted into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you kissed her back with the same intensity. you let yourself forget about the consequences. You let yourself just feel.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as the reality of what had just happened settled between you. Sadie’s eyes were full of regret, but there was something else there too, something that looked like relief.

“I told you it ain’t right,” she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction now.

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead harder against hers. “I know.”

You both stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence for a few more moments before Sadie pulled away. Her face was conflicted, torn between wanting more and knowing she couldn’t have it. She took a step back, breaking the physical connection, but her eyes still lingered on you, soft and full of things left unsaid.

“We can’t… not again,” she said softly, her voice filled with a kind of finality that made your chest ache.

You nodded, though your heart screamed at you to disagree, to beg her to stay. But you both knew the truth of it all. The world wouldn’t let you have this, not without paying a price neither of you were willing to risk.

As Sadie turned and walked away, disappearing into the camp, you were left standing there. alone, aching, knowing you would never stop wanting her.

But some things were too dangerous to hold onto, 

even when they felt so right.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[outlastrabbit]

i’m a huge fan of your writings! Could you maybe do Leland and Mother Gooseberry with an asthmatic gn reader both Sfw and Nsfw please

Thank you!☺️💖

Gooseberry and Coyle With an Asthmatic!Reader

Mother Gooseberry💕

SFW

Mother Gooseberry had some breathing issues too sometimes. You poor dear. She sympathised with you. Doctor Futterman, however? Not so much.

The woman scolded any grunts or Ex-Pop that chased you around. It broke her heart to see how puffed and breathless you grew when running! So Mother had to punish those bad babies. In many… quite horrific ways.

Mother Gooseberry found it bittersweet when she got to comfort you. You sat next to her wheezing, clutching your ESOP as you tried to breathe. She placed a gentle hand on your back, petting it with fervent care.

“You poor child.” She frowned from under her mask of skin. “You dumb cow.” Doctor Futterman snapped back.

You stopped coughing briefly to look at Mother and the goose on her hand. Once again, Doctor Futterman did not give you any sympathy unlike his daughter. As you slowly caught your breath, she looked down at him disapprovingly.

“Daddy…”

NSFW

Oh, Mother was so gentle with you. She didn’t want you doing anything that would tucker you out or leave you too breathless. Just let her do all the work.

“You just relax, dear.”

Mother Gooseberry had you lying comfortably on your back in the nicest bed she could find. She smiled lovingly down at you, content with how slow and steady your breathing currently was. Now that Futterman was gone, all that came from her lips were soft words of praise.

If the pleasure was building and you couldn’t control your pants or moans, Mother didn’t stop. She leaned down and placed a kiss to your parted lips, maybe even blowing some air in. That only drove you a little wild, making it harder to remain calm as you grew closer.

Leland Coyle💕

SFW

You almost thought Coyle had asthma too with how heavy he breathed when just speed walking to chase you. When you sassily asked him about it through your tiresome wheezing, he of course denied it. He was also pretty closed minded, telling you to ‘just breathe.’

Though Coyle saw you as weak most of the time, he liked that you still had a bit of fight in you. You had no inhaler or any time to catch your precious breath, and yet you still powered on through the pain. He almost felt a twinge of sympathy for you when he heard you cough or gasp for air. Almost.

Coyle grew more mindful of his own breathing when he chased other reagents around. He seemed to focus on it more because of you. Which was annoying. Any heavy breathing or coughing reminded him of… you. He hated that.

Coyle acted cold and dismissive with you a lot, even though he felt the opposite on the inside. He shooed you away, brushing you off and telling you to get lost. It may have seemed mean, and it was… but it was only so you didn’t have a fit while he was smoking a cigarette.

NSFW

Depending on how unhealthy his attachment to you got, Coyle may have actually been a bit gentle. If he had spent a lot of time with you as his little prisoner, he may have just been sweet on you. This meant slowing down when you got too breathless or not gripping you as hard. He didn’t want to admit it, but he did feel some fear when you found it hard to breathe.

Coyle could get used to being more careful with you. He kind of liked being… soft. He may have even smiled affectionately during sex, and even gave you more kisses.

He started to crave your closeness when you got more intimate. Coyle laid you down and pressed himself gently against you, his beard and scars rubbing against your neck. He moved his hand between your thighs, listening intently to your soft pants.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part fourteen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: dubcon ; choking ; breathplay; nsfw

“You could have been killed.”

“You would have done the same thing.”

She thinks too highly of him, he realizes, but that’s the least of his problems right now.

“It doesn’t matter what I would have done,” he says.

She looks at him strangely, as if he’s missing her point in favor of blunt, stubborn thinking.

“I’m not mad,” he tells her, face getting softer.

“You seem mad,” she argues quietly.

“I’m frustrated,” he supplies.

“Is it because of me?” Her eyes get glossy and make him feel terrible.

He stomps on his aching chest with the boot of logic until it quiets.

“A little bit,” he tells her, never one to lie. He wants to elaborate, but she starts yelling at him before he can.

“I didn’t do anything!” She is suddenly a tantrum throwing ten year old who can use big words. “I’m just- I just wanted to see you and then everything escalated so quickly and I thought they were going to hurt her more than they already had.”

His voice is calm and quiet as he tries to co-regulate her emotions with his own.

“I understand,” he provides, subduing the angry child inside of her. “But there is a difference between bravery and a death wish. You versus several men should flag as the latter.”

She opens her mouth, but he raises his hand to placate her. “I didn’t say it wasn’t brave.”

Instead of coming down, her anger just spreads and rages like a flame catching on dry wood. “But just that I’m a stupid, weak woman? I wasn’t trying to be brave, I was trying to help her! If it was just the one, I could have handled it! She was screaming!”

It is a harsh and exaggerated version of what he is saying, but he still can’t discredit her logic entirely.

“That’s not what I think,” he says.

The smile on her face is meaner than she’s capable of being. He’s never seen her try so hard to be indifferent and he hates this look on her.

“It’s the you being dead part that I’m talking about,” he says, eyebrows pilling down as if the thought alone hurts him.

“Why do you care, John?” She asks, slowing down a bit, letting melancholy talk her out of anger.

There’s so much he could say in response to that, none of which would make this less complicated than it already is.

Maybe he should have stayed away from her originally, but the thought didn’t even occur to him because he craved her presence so much. Even now, leaving her life alone sounds a lot like trying to quit smoking crystal meth.

Except he knows that if he quits cold turkey, he will end up consuming every ounce he can get his hands on no matter what price is payed in the end.

If he leaves her, then she’s free game for the other side of him that eventually and brutally gets what it wants, and so he’s staying right here.

“I do care.”

He knows she’s going to tell him how he really feels despite what he just told her with his own mouth, but saying ‘I care because you’re the only thing I do care about and you’re never leaving me whether you like it or not ’ is just too much.

“You don’t have to.” He’s exhausted with her trying to sound independent and aloof, when she doesn’t have to be. Not with him.

And it irks him. And he knows it’s not fair to be mad because he comes and goes as he pleases and holds his emotions dangling in the air where she can’t reach, but his anger gets the best of him whenever it concerns her.

Everything gets the best of him when it concerns her.

“I do. You need protection if you’re not going to care about protecting yourself.”

She laughs without mirth, looking down at her hands and picking at them so she doesn’t scream at him again. “No, I don’t need you to protect me.”

like hell you don’t, is what he wants to say with teeth and venom.

“But you don’t care about protecting yourself,” he reiterates, jamming his pointer finger into the table and making it shake to get her attention.

She looks back up at him, shoulders tensing in surprise.

“Why should I care about myself?” She asks, and the fact that she means it with her hard, wild eyes and fervent tone just makes him more angry.

There are probably a million reasons why she should care about herself, but the one that mostly concerns him is that he needs her and can’t fathom a life void of her presence. He’s so fucking selfish it would make Dionysus himself appalled.

“Because you’re softer than you think you are,” he says, cursing himself for never finding the right words despite thinking about what he wants to say so extensively.

It just offends her, like he knows it will as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, but he has to stand by it because it’s not as if he’s not telling her the hard truth.

“I’m stronger than you think I am,” she says.

“There’s a difference between strength and valiance.”

Now they’ve just arrived back at the original point and are effectively running in circles and he’s never been a fan of repeating himself.

She can’t believe he thinks this lowly of her. It fucking hurts - hurts that he feels like he needs to stay around to keep her head from being lopped off just because he has some imaginary debt that he has to pay to her.

She wants him to leave but at the same time if he leaves she feels like she’ll snap and lose the remaining hope she’s been grueling to hold onto. Instead of becoming hardened by this conversation like a strong person would be, she’s crumbling more by the second and ready to grovel at his feet and she absolutely despises herself for showing him that she’s just an obsessed, weak girl that wants his approval so bad it’s disgusting.

Tears that have been threatening her this entire time begin to win their way out of her eyes.

“It’s okay to be soft,” John says, thumb twitching to wipe the first drop of fluid off her cheek. She pushes him away, and her prize is him grabbing her wrist in his iron grip before she can move.

“I’m sorry.” She says her favorite words and he has no idea what she’s apologizing about. For trying to swat him away? For being emotional? For the events that day? None of which are things she should feel sorry for. In fact, he can’t find a reason that she should be remiss, especially while he’s staring into her broken face and feeling like the biggest asshole alive.

She complies, but it’s not like she has a choice when he’s effortless at manipulating her body into any angle he wants.

Right now, that angle is vertical so that he can kiss her.

His lips touch her top one, opening slightly, gently coaxing, anger forgotten at the doorstep of her sadness.

She opens her mouth for him, and he holds the entire side of her face in his huge, sturdy hand while they take turns sucking lightly at each other’s lips.

Her hands take their favored place gripping onto the soft leather of his jacket, helping her boost onto her toes to reach his face.

If she could think, it would be about how her feelings and her doubts don’t matter as long as they can keep doing this slippery dance of mouth and tongue.

He’s all consuming, this man. All she can taste is his warm saliva. All she can feel is him pressed against her and the expert motion of his big, teasing tongue. All she can smell is his fading cologne and his spiced skin. All she can hear is the wet suck of their embrace. She’ll understand anything he wants, do anything he wants, kneel at his feet and kiss his shiny dress shoes and say thank you for the opportunity to do so.

His resolve blooms like a delighted sunflower opening directly under the warm spring sun, and he can think more than she can but it’s only about how fucked he is because this woman exists. And how there is, after all, a merciful and loving God, merely because she does exist .

The kiss is not enough, they both decide. She presses herself against him and he palms her waist hard enough to ident.

His jacket comes off, so she grabs around his neck and he lifts her completely off her toes and backs them into the couch.

He lays with her on top of him, and she doesn’t bother asking him whether she’s crushing him or not because he’s pushing her hips into his abdomen so hard that it’s like he wants her to smother him with her body.

She gets her hands into his trimmed mane and the bulk of it feels wonderful against the nerves in her fingers. Soft silk that would make any blonde, hair obsessed movie star jealous.

He tugs the hem of her shirt and she helps him get it off, then plops down so that their hips align.

He has to sit up and lean back against the arm of the couch to reach and keep kissing her.

She’s distracted by the feeling of something obscenely large pressed up against the junction of her thigh and actually wondering if it’s a weapon or his dick and then dwelling on how she’s going to take it inside of her if it’s the latter.

He chuckles and holds her in place and nuzzles her while she laughs and folds in to protect herself, playful even despite the desperation of their desire.

He’s laughing so hard that his lips are quaking when he has mercy and, instead, kisses her cheek. He grabs her hair softly and brings her ear to his mouth where he can’t help but suck and bite at the dangling lobe before talking orotund just for her. Just because he knows that she likes it.

Her giggles turn to breathy whines while he massages through her bra with one thick hand.

“Soft girl,” he says. “Let me protect you.”

She turns slack and pliant in his grip while her insides melt and mix into throbbing mush from his words.

“Do I have a choice?” She asks him, rubbing her hands over the rocky runway of his chest.

He’s glad she asks, because he was just about to mention it. “No.”

“I’ll-ah-think about it.” Despite her defiant words, she is thankful for the lifted responsibility, and hums, snuggles deeper into him like a cat curling into a dryer.

He pulls her nipples out above the seam of her bra and worries them with calloused thumbs.

She moans, kisses at his neck and chest, lifts his shirt up over his stomach. He gets it off with one hand, and she pulls away to stare at him.

He trades pulling her bra off for her admiring his body.

She wants to look uninterrupted at this beautiful bare man that she’s never seen fully before, but he can’t keep his hands off her puffy tits.

Her mouth is made clumsy by his teasing when she tastes the raised scars on his chest.

She wants to kiss every pink mark slashing his golden skin, and the little, determined creature tries despite his rude hands plucking and pinching her body incessantly. She kisses right down to his belt, and his hands bunch her hair while she takes her turn terrorizing him with her sinfully soft mouth.

She licks the fluffy line of hair on his tummy, pulls on his belt loops to urge his pants off.

Her nurse brain brims with pride upon seeing the barely-there, scabbed stab wound spanning between his sculpted hip bones.

He lifts his ass up, puts both hands behind his head to hold himself and watch the show of her struggling with denim and shoes and socks to get him in his boxers.

Her perfect jiggling tits, determined expression, caring hands get him to a point that he’s so hard he’s aching, and it’s not difficult to see the mountain of his cock underneath clinging fabric.

He almost thinks she’s about to ask him something while she stares at his dick like it’s the first time she’s seeing one, but she surprises him and kisses his thighs instead.

He hums pleasantly, relaxing for her mouth while she moves it up to his hips.

Her timid hand rubs at his length, exploring, assessing. Of course he’s thick and curved just right, she should’ve expected it since he’s so perfect in every other way. She looks up at his handsome face and her cunt clenches at the lazy, sultry expression he wears. Crafted by Aphrodite herself.

She can’t keep his eyes for long, instead goes back to kissing the skin she exposes as she pulls his underwear off.

He’s velvet stone, dark, wide, long. Wiry, thick black hair covers the base of him and clear fluid stains the deep red tip.

She kisses his shaft, trails her lips up to the top and tastes his cum.

John rubs her scalp, hums in approval.

She gives his slippery head a wet, sloppy peck, then pulls away to talk into the sensitive tip of his cock.

“You’re so fucking hot,” she tells him, flushing at her boldness.

“Prove it,” he says.

She takes the start of him so well in her wide, warm mouth, sucking and licking while her hand massages the length of his dick. Saliva spills down to help balance friction.

Sloppy slurping noises eclipse his whispering sounds of pleasure.

It doesn’t take long for her jaw to start aching, so she lets up suction in favor of taking as much of him in her throat as she can. She makes herself gag on him a couple times, and he pumps into her mouth, and she smiles even while she chokes.

It rubs her sore, but she gets more saliva as a prize and uses it to soak him.

Finding a rhythm that she can handle and that makes his thigh tendons and cock clench reflexively, she stays steady for a bit and just bobs her head and sucks while she rubs with her palm.

He grips onto her head, pushes her too far and makes her choke and sputter again. She comes up for breath and he rubs her cheek, coaxes her slippery mouth open with his thumb and lays it heavy on her tongue. She suckles, looks at him through shy lashes.

“You okay?” He asks, obviously holding back.

She’d rather handle choking than the feeling she gets from his caring, apologetic voice, especially when she already feels so Goddamn helpless and thick headed.

“I’m a big girl, John,” she says, plopping off his finger, “I can handle it.”

“Is that what you want?” He asks, gripping her harder, sliding his dick against her lips, almost angry with the way her defiance delights him. He opens her mouth wide with his fingers and lays his fat tip on her tongue.

She groans, canting her hips at the sudden change of his attitude, and blindly nods.

“Are you sure?” He asks, teasing her with his thick head pulsing hot.

She growls in frustration, looks up at him with her fierce, tough, beautiful eyes.

He shoves in while simultaneously pushing her head down, stretches her to gagging and then past that, feels her teeth as she struggles to breathe and keep wide for him at the same time. Her nails dig into his skin, reflexively pushing away, trying to get oxygen back.

He lets her go, and she comes up for breath, sputtering and coughing, tears already dribbling down her cheeks. He keeps her lips around his head while she barely collects herself, and then pushes back in and makes her jaw pop.

Instead of letting up, he fucks her mouth. She has to breathe through her nose and concentrate every oral muscle she has on relaxing so she doesn’t vomit on his dick. Her throat screams at the intrusion, tears streaming down her cheeks and puddling into his pubic hair, vision turning blurry and lungs burning.

She’s drowning on his cock and he’s not stopping and there’s nothing she can do against his cruel, relentless grip except take it.

It’s heaven.

Still, her body reflexively fights for air, hands clawing and pushing and feet kicking at the couch cushions for purchase.

He releases her and she wretches her mouth off to gulp oxygen. His hands are weighty on her cheeks, smearing the mixture of his cum and her tears into delicate skin purely for visual entertainment.

His grip constricts like he’s going to take her mouth back, and she opens wide despite her raw throat and streaming tears, a line of obscene drool dribbling from her swollen lips, starving for more of him.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, faux soothing, keeping her head where he wants it with his hands threaded through her hair. “If what you need is a big, mean man to put you in your place, then that man is going to be me. Do you understand that?”

His brave human nods yes, falls to pieces in front of him with a tiny smile and he could cum just by watching it happen.

He spends the next few minutes fucking her throat at his leisure, being just soft enough to keep her conscious until he cums.

Half of it shoots down her esophagus while half of it leaks out of her mouth and coats her chin and his stomach.

He lets her go, and while she pulls back and sputters and swallows, it dribbles down onto her neck and chest.

Her hazy vision returns and her lungs greedily suck all the air they can hold.

His cum dribbling onto her puckering nipples is a wonderful, obscene sight. It’s hard to look away from the view, but he pets her face with pride to coax her teary eyes onto his own. She smiles, kisses the pad of his thumb.

“Come here,” he tells her, patting his chest. She crawls up and lays her head on his shoulder, still whimpering and coughing.

He soothes over her hair and back, holds her tight. “How you doing, honey?” He asks, pressing his fingers into her spine and working out the knots he finds there.

She sniffles. “I’m fine. That was wonderful.”

His grin is heinous, carving into the crown of her hair.

She’s still in her pants while he’s completely naked underneath her, so he tugs at her waist band to make it even. Once they get them off, he replaces lost heat with the blanket from the back of the couch. He turns, having already mastered the art of cuddling, and she tucks into his side so that his deflating cock is pressed against her ass. His hands rest on her tummy and she thinks he’s going to go lower, tenses in anticipation for the relief of his fingers, but he stays put, and, after a minute, she hears the faintest snore leave his mouth.

She turns her head, and there he is with his jaw popped open and eyes closed, sleeping peacefully.

He looks fucking adorable like this, and she can’t believe that a few moments ago this man was thoroughly throat fucking her. The thought of a big, soft, dangerous, Discovery Chanel lion taking a well earned nap after having his fill of a fresh zebra comes to mind, so she leaves him sleep and snuggles tighter beside him, closing her eyes and trying to follow despite the unfair arousal still running rampant through her body.

She wakes up in his arms while he’s carrying her to bed. The sun has gone down outside and the apartment is black, so she can’t see anything, but she can tell he’s got his clothes back on by the feel of him, and her face drops in dissapointment. He navigates them right into her room despite low visibility and lays her down on the mattress.

She tugs on his forearm lazily. “Lay with me?” Her voice is hoarse and quiet.

He kisses her forehead and tucks a blanket around her. “I have to work,” he says.

She lets him go. “Tonight?”

“Yes,” he tells her.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks.

If he says yes, he might be lying. “You will always see me tomorrow if I’m alive,” he promises, kissing her fingertips, then her wrist.

“Don’t die,” she whispers, eyes wide awake and anxious now. “Please.”

He kisses her palm, then the top of her hand. “Okay.” It’s stupid to agree to her terms, because he can’t guarantee his mortality, especially with what he’s going to be doing, but he doesn’t want her to be worried.

He gives one final kiss to her lips and then he’s gone.

————————————————————

“John,” Marvin greets, nodding, opening the metal door so that he can step inside.

John tips his head. “Marvin.”

“How you doing?” Marvin asks, blowing smoke into the air.

“Good. Yourself?”

“I been better,” Marvin says. “He’s got us working for our money tonight. I’m guessing it’s because you’re back, huh?”

“I’m here,” John replies.

Marvin sighs and stamps his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. “Let’s get to work.”

John sits at the round table with the rest of them. Smoke clouds the dark room in thick curtains. He greets familiar faces, listens to hushed conversations of the people around him. A woman in fresh leather sets a drink in front of him and he gulps it down.

Viggo sits next to him and pats him on the back. “You seem relaxed. Just get your dick sucked or something?” His voice is low and private.

John takes another drink.

“Three minutes late, too. She must be good at it.” Viggo grins.

The cat’s out of the bag, just like he figured it would be, but he still grips the glass so hard he feels it crack in his fist.

He turns to him. “Don’t.” It’s a simple word that holds enough warning weight to make Viggo’s face apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “And for the record, I would have done the same thing to those idiots.”

John barely relaxes his grip.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” Viggo says. “He came crying to me like a child, but I’m glad he did. Because now I can offer your girl protection as well, John.”

He says nothing.

“If you’re back in, people are going to start noticing that you’re distracted. And you can’t always protect her while you’re on the job.”

John’s jaw ticks.

“All I’m saying is, your lady love is worth the services I can offer.”

“I don’t want her involved,” John says.

Viggo snorts. “Немного поздно для этого.”

John takes the last drink of his spirit. “Yeah.”

“Excellent.” Viggo smiles.

[fortunesque]

WIP Wednesday

Here's a bit of a future chapter of Think of Me (Raditz x Reader, rated E). It's getting a little harder to find stuff to share for WIP Wednesday because most of the stuff I have at this point is either major spoiler heavy, or smut. Thankfully, this is neither 😅

The drinks have done a lot to open him up; Raditz is leaning back in his seat, with his feet propped up on a chair across from him. His tail is draped over the side of the chair and lays on the floor.

Between his tail, lounging around, and crazy amount of hair, Raditz reminds Yamcha more of a lion, than anything.

It's so weird to him that Raditz gets treated like such a loser. He's a really cool dude, at least, in Yamcha's opinion. He's certain that a lot of people on Earth would find him cool, too.

Maybe, he's not cool out in space? That's not really fair, though.

Well, Raditz is more than welcome to chill with him anytime. He's a cool dude.

Raditz shrugs. "Look, it wasn't really complicated. Power level is lower? Shoot em. Power level is higher? Get the fuck out."

"Wait, so you'd run away?" Yamcha asks.

Raditz rolls his eyes.

"Of course," he says. "I'm not going to get fucked up by natives just because some rich asshole wants to build a resort planet. Fuck 'em."

He brings his fingers up to his mouth, then sighs in frustration and puts his hand down.

Yamcha's seen Bulma do the same thing when she's done one of her many attempts to stop smoking. He wonders what kind of invisible smoke Raditz is craving, right now.

It's absolutely wild to him that this is Goku's brother. They don't look a thing alike, for starters. Not only that, but Raditz cusses and talks shit like a thug.

It's surprising, though, that he doesn't talk about getting laid, or about what women are like out there in the galaxy. Raditz almost talks like he's a taken man.

Maybe he is, and he's just not aware of that, yet.

Yamcha thinks there's something more going on with you and Raditz. Realistically, though, a long distance relationship is hard to maintain.

He thinks it's a good thing, though. Bulma says Raditz seems to have perked up quite a bit. Good sex with a beautiful woman will do that, but—

Yamcha swears there's more to it. You two looked right together when you curled up on the couch in his lap.

He's going to see if he can get Raditz to talk about you more, then talk to Bulma about it.

He can't help but notice, too, that Raditz cusses way less around you and doesn't talk about anything too violent.

Yeah, Raditz is trying to leave a good impression by being polite with you.

Good. That's a very good start. It's how Yamcha started reforming.

He hopes that Raditz makes friends along the way. One woman can't bear all of that. Goodness knows Bulma couldn't. Little Goku was a godsend to keep Yamcha in line. Maybe, Yamcha should be Raditz' Goku?

Yikes. Those are massive shoes to fill.

Yamcha should probably call Krillin to come help.

He makes up his mind; he's going to ask Raditz if he wants to train with him. The guy has potential in all sorts of ways.

And, it's a way they can hang out. Because, Raditz is cool.