#cork cigarette | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riaki · 5 months

Text

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

500 notes · View notes

pluckyredhead · 10 months

Text

The past few days I've been thinking a lot about the General Slocum disaster.

It's a mostly forgotten story now, but the General Slocum was a passenger steamboat that was used for excursion trips around New York during the turn of the 20th century. In 1904 it caught on fire and sank in the East River, and over a thousand people died (there were less than 1400 aboard to begin with). Most of them were women and children. They were on a church-sponsored picnic outing.

From top to bottom, the story of the General Slocum is about corporate greed, and corruption, and incompetence:

The fire was probably started by a match or cigarette (!) in the Lamp Room, which was full of straw, oily rags, and lamp oil (!).

A child told the captain that the ship was on fire, but the captain ignored him. The crew didn't properly inform the captain of the fire until ten minutes later.

The captain inexplicably made for North Brother Island, even though other islands were closer. Steering directly into headwinds spread the fire faster.

The crew hadn't practiced a fire drill in the past year.

None of the safety equipment on the ship worked, because the steamboat company found it cheaper to pay off safety inspectors than to keep their ships up to code.

There was a hose on board, but it was so old and rotten that it burst when the crew tried to hook it up. The crew then gave up trying to put out the fire or help anyone and abandoned ship.

The lifeboats were wired to the deck, and the wires had then been painted over, rather than removing the lifeboats each time the ship got a fresh coat of paint, so it they were impossible to lower.

The life preservers were filled with cork. They were supposed to weigh a certain amount, so the manufacturer had put lead bars in some of them to make weight.

Others were so old that the cork inside had disintegrated into powder. Solid cork floats. Powdered cork sinks.

That meant that some of the mothers who survived described putting life preservers on their babies and throwing them into the river to escape the flames, and watching them sink.

Very few people could swim at the time, and everyone was wearing the heavy wool clothing of the period. Hundreds of people drowned.

The disaster decimated the immigrant community of Little Germany on the Lower East Side, where most of the deceased were from. Fathers who hadn't been able to attend the picnic because they were working got home to find their wives and children were all dead. Dozens of bodies were either never found, or found but never identified.

Though multiple safety inspectors and employees of the steamboat company were indicted, only the captain - who very much became the scapegoat for the whole thing - was convicted. The steamboat company paid a nominal fine. The one silver lining was that state and federal safety regulations were strengthened in the aftermath.

Like I said at the beginning, this story is mostly forgotten. A lot of historians credit that to the Titanic upstaging it just a few years later. Adella Wotherspoon, who survived the General Slocum as a baby and lived until 2004 (!), said she knew why: "The Slocum people were very poor or middle class. They were often German immigrants. The Titanic and other ships had celebrities."

I don't really have a moral to this story, except that safety regulations matter, ships full of immigrants are just as important as ships full of rich people, and humans have pretty much always been the same, as far as I can tell.

(If you want to know more, I highly recommend Ship Ablaze: The Tragedy of the Steamboat General Slocum by Edward T. O'Donnell, the excellent Wikipedia page, and the Bowery Boys podcast episode on the disaster.)

#general slocum #history #oceangate

804 notes · View notes

shewrites444 · 9 months

Text

earned it [thomas shelby x mafia/dominant reader smut]

word count - 3k

[ summary - the reader, the current head of the sicilian mob, meets with thomas shelby to discuss an issue that intervenes with both of their organizations. despite their mutual disliking for one another, thomas takes an interest to the business woman before him, and doesn’t seem to realize how powerful she may be. ]

[ warnings - mentions of violence, strong cursing, dirty talk, dominant female, oral (f & m), praise kink, unprotected sex ]

“and if we get ‘rid’ of him and his members, how are we going to go about that?” thomas shelby asked me from across the obnoxiously long dining table, lighting a cigarette and sinking into his chair.

i shrug nonchalantly, resting my arms against the table as i chew the steak his supposed aunt polly cooked for us. we’d be discussing this matter for so long my food was starting to get cold.

“we can handle that, all i ask is for you and your family to do the talking. get them out of birmingham and into italy. i know it’s a far stretch, but we can make it work. when someone is offered a lot of money, they’ll travel. the last thing their organization wants is no protection. i think they’d trust the mob’s word over a group of drunken, horse-betting brothers.”

thomas scoffed, moderately offended but also carrying a tone of impressment, taking a sip of his whiskey and gesturing the glass towards me. “you italians have a mouth on you, eh? you crawl around europe like the coppers, thinking you own the cities, only you’re not afraid to take out your guns, hm, mrs. [y/n].”

“i’m not married.” i mutter, once again taking the steak knife in my hand as i begin to cut the tender meat.

he quirked his brow, setting his glass down. “my mistake. i assumed that a woman who ran one of the most dangerous gangs in italy was wedded. i should’ve looked at your ring finger before i commented, miss [y/n].”

“we’re not here to discuss my marriage status, mr. shelby. this group of communists pose a real threat to both of our families. i can get back in my carriage right now and send my men in here to shoot you in the fucking head for all i care, if you don’t cooperate, or we can get back to information that actually matters, and your life goes on.” i look him in the eyes, a blank expression on my face.

he stood up, walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself more whiskey, taking another glass and filling it with a new bottle of red wine after popping the cork. he set it beside my plate, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.

“you can get pissed off all you want, dear, but i’m the one with a gun in my pocket. i could kill you, and your men, in a matter of seconds, so don’t think your words even draw a nick of blood on me.” he threatened, sipping his drink, enough to nearly empty the glass. “we can agree to disagree all night, or you can change your temper and we can figure out a neutral solution for the both of us.”

i chew my steak, watching him speak with a smirk on my redly tainted lips. i take the glass of wine and drink it slowly. “you are quite charming, mr. shelby. it almost offends me that you think i walked into your home unarmed, too.” i take my napkin and dab it on my lips before standing up, dusting off my black dress. “do as i say, and get them to italy. we can discuss the specifics after you speak to their leader. walk me to my carriage, won’t you?”

thomas stands up, pushing both of our chairs in before walking me to the back doorway, his whiskey glass still in hand, only a few ice cubes left inside and not even a shot’s worth of alcohol. i glance down at the purse in my hand, looking through to find my lipstick, confused if i had dropped it when i stood up from the table. i sigh, looking up to the peaky blinder who stood before me as he opened the door for me.

“give me one minute, i think i dropped my lipstick by my chair.” i set my purse down on the table aside their coat rack and walk back to the dining room, hearing his footsteps trail behind as he followed.

i lean down, seeing the lipstick on the floor and pick it up, turning around to bump into thomas, our faces not even two inches apart as he lightly pushed me against the table.

i roll my eyes, both hands planting against his chest and pushing him off. “i don’t think me saying i was unmarried was a suggestion, mr. shelby. not every woman becomes a whore when you have them over for dinner.”

“do you ever freely sleep around, miss [y/n]?” thomas asks, looking down to meet my eyes, then averting to my lips. “surely, a woman like you, can get whoever she wants. you run apart of the bloody world, for what it’s worth. do you ever fuck anyone on your level? someone as powerful as you are?”

“that’s none of your concern.” i say, glancing down at the light erection that was intruding his black slacks. “although, i definitely don’t fuck men that rudely come onto me when i make it clear i came over for strictly business.”

he grinned, one of his hands gently sliding onto my back, the other setting the glass on the table, one ice cube sliding onto his fingertips. he pressed it against my collarbone, sliding it down my skin softly.

“oh, but you definitely do. i think this says otherwise, don’t you think?” thomas tilts his head teasingly, gesturing to my hardening nipples as they protruded my dress.

i blush, shaking my head in disbelief. “you have a cold substance near my chest, that’s a natural reaction.”

“it’s not even near them, dear. i’m still pressing on your shoulder. it’s not a bad thing to admit you like this, miss [y/n].” he slides the ice cube further down my chest, his pinkie pushing my dress back, the v-neck fabric tucking itself underneath my right breast through his manipulation. he slid the substance over my nipple, causing me to sigh heavily. he couldn’t help but grin at my reaction.

thomas leaned down, dropping the ice cube back into the glass and licking my erect nipple, sucking lightly on the bud before pushing me against the table and sitting me down. i moan softly, looking up at the ceiling, my body now in a heat at his teasing touch.

“i think you choose not to fuck. from what it seems like, it may be a distraction for you. you’re a busy woman. perhaps there is no time for any sort of play.” thomas says, reaching over to expose my other breast. “you really don’t let anyone in, even physically. you and i, miss [y/n], are probably more alike than you realize.”

“don’t even try convincing me of that. i know you fuck, mr. shelby.”

“oh, really? you know that, how? because of how wet i already have you?” he asks, reaching his hand down and into my knee-length dress, pressing his fingers against my warm panties.

i hold my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as he pushes the fabric to the side, lightly tracing his fingers against my wet folds.

“a woman like you wouldn’t like to be fucked like a whore, though. you expect much more than that. you’d like to be praised, as if you were a crown jewel in terms of your status. you’re someone who is clearly unfazed by most men, i can see that. you don’t give a fuck about them unless they worship you.”

“do you think you could possibly do that, mr. shelby? worship a woman?”

“not just any woman, no.” he begins, reaching his arm across my waist, snaking it around me to pull me up and into his chest, where he held me up and guided me to the bedroom next to the dining room. “it takes someone who knows who they are and what they can do to make me feel like they even deserve that type of treatment.”

he helped pull my dress off, leaving me in only my panties as he set me on the bed. i chose to oblige, partially due to the pleasure he was sinking me into, but also because i found it interesting he thought he would even have full control over the situation. thomas was right about me choosing to not fuck, but that didn't mean i fell at the feet of a man who knew what he was doing. thomas shelby was a powerful man, sure, but he could never climb the ladder high enough to reach my level.

“but you, you know what you can do. you do what has to be done, miss [y/n]. you threatened to put a gun to my head, what kind of woman does that? a fucking powerful one.” thomas nearly moans at his own words, leaning down to kiss me before he began to undress.

i return the kiss, my legs still shut, as thomas began to unbutton his shirt, glancing down at my waiting body. he undressed himself fully, standing naked before me as he climbed into the bed and leaned down on his knees, sliding off my underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he hovered above me, planting a passionate kiss against my lips, leaving red residue from my lipstick on his own lips while he slid his tongue into my mouth. i feel his fingers slide inside of me, my legs spreading in reaction as he began to finger me. his lips trailed from my neck to my breasts, sucking my nipples back and forth as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy.

i close my eyes, my mouth hung open as i moan in pleasure from his touch. i could feel his eyes on me, watching nothing but my expression. the mental part of me hated giving into thomas shelby’s advances, but the physical side of me could care less. he knew what he was doing, it seemed like, but frankly, so did i.

“oh, you’re so fucking wet, love. you’re practically dripping onto my fingers, onto my bed..” thomas cooes, pulling himself out of me and into his mouth, licking my juices. “and you taste just as good as i imagined. how did i get so lucky to touch you?”

i lightly sit up, leaning over to pull him back into a kiss as i climb off the bed, thomas now sitting at the edge. i get on my knees and take his cock into my hand, spitting on his tip and beginning to lick his cock, up and down, pressing light kisses against his skin as he watched, his expression showing nothing but lust, as he grinned from cheek to cheek at my actions.

“fuck,” he mutters, resting his hands on the bed. “you look beautiful when you play with my cock, love.” he moans as i slide him into my mouth and down my throat, still looking up to meet his eyes. he reaches over to hold my chin in one hand, gently guiding my head up and down. “that’s it, please keep taking my cock. you’re so pretty when you do so, love. i can’t wait to fuck you, you’ve got me nearly finishing at the thought of it.”

i pump him inside of my throat, feeling his orgasm nearly reach the surface as he groans at the build up of it all. i pull away, taking his length in one hand as he cums onto my face, his seed coating all over my mouth and cheeks.

“oh, fuck, you look so fucking good, [y/n]. your mouth felt so fucking good.” thomas praises, watching as i lean back, tracing my finger across my cheeks, licking his cum off and into my mouth. he stares in awe, reaching his hands over to help me stand up and get back onto the bed. he presses a hard kiss against my lips, laying back down as i lay on top of him.

“i don’t think you understand this, thomas.” i smirk, cupping his face with both of my hands. “you don’t just get to fuck me, you know that, right? you have to earn it. i’m the motherfucking leader of a mob, after all. i don’t fuck just anyone, not even thomas shelby, no matter how good you may be at fucking.”

he tilted his head, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back down. “is that so? your cunt is practically begging for me to fuck it. we don’t have to play this game, love. please, let me touch you further.”

i roll over and out of his grip, laying down next to him and spreading my legs, gesturing for him to get in front of me. “then fuck me with your tongue, and we’ll see what i think of anything further than that.”

he chuckles, seemingly surprised by how bossy i could be, but leaned down anyway, adjusting himself to wrap his arms around my thighs, his face stuffed between them as his tongue attached to my clit, flicking the bud of sensitive flesh. i moan softly, watching thomas lick between my folds and back up to my clit, back and forth, which only drew a pit in my stomach, as my orgasm slowly began to build. i was more surprised by his efforts more than his experience. of course thomas shelby knew how to fully pleasure a woman when she demanded it.

“fuck, thomas..” i moan softly, reaching down to hold his black hair with one hand. “just like that, baby, and you’ll be fucking me so soon. god, that feels good.”

he quickens his pace a bit, my back gently arching up in reaction to his action, my free hand gripping the white bedsheets as he helped me very quickly reach my orgasm, my fluids releasing onto the sheets and his lips. i dripped down his chin but he didn’t seem to care, taking me by the hips and moving one leg on top of his shoulder, sliding his hard length inside of me with one slow stroke, both of us moaning at the sudden stimulation.

“oh, fucking hell, [y/n], my god, dear, you’re so fucking wet, you feel so good, fuck,” thomas groans, leaning down to kiss me, his free hand taking my breast into his his palm and squeezing harshly, earning a moan from me into his mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.

i pull away from the kiss, looking down to watch him pump his thick, wet cock into my pussy. my tits bounce at his thrusts, my core feeling every single touch. thomas held my ankle to keep my leg up, his other hand pulling away from my breast and down to my hips, holding the side of my waist to further his steady grip.

“you take my cock so well, [y/n].” thomas compliments, glancing down to meet my eyes as i look away from our bodies. “i could watch you forever, fuck. the way you look right now is absolutely stunning, no one can ever fucking compare to your cunt.”

i lean up slightly, resting on my elbows, grinning at thomas as he fucks me. “you really think so, thomas? then why don’t you fuck me harder? make me cum again, baby, i want to so badly. make me cum with you.”

“if you want me to fuck you harder, [y/n], you’re going to have to turn around for me.” thomas suggests, lightly pulling himself out of me and also wiping the sweat from his forehead, assisting me as i turn around, all fours against the bed as i arch my ass up, feeling tommy’s hands play with it by squeezing the flesh and slapping it lightly.

“you’re perfect from behind too, fuck. is there anything about you i can dislike? you italians may have bloody mouth, but you take me so well in yours, love.” he says, pushing himself back inside of me.

he holds me by the hips, starting to fuck me, but much harder than before. our skin slaps together as he pushes himself in much deeper, so much so that i was gasping at his touch, grabbing the sheets and holding them as hard as i could, despite the sweat that was collecting on my palms.

“f-fucking hell, tommy..” i moan into the sheets, my head resting against the pillow. “you fuck me so good, baby, keep going like that, fuck! fucking fill me up, tommy, fuck!”

he leans down to grab my neck, pounding inside of my walls before our moans begin to sync, our orgasms releasing a matter of seconds after as we finish together, his warm seed filling my insides and my own cum dripping from between us, tricking down my now shaking legs.

thomas pulls out of me, turning me over to lay beside him. he wraps one arm around me, but glances down to meet my eyes, and kisses me tiredly.

“next time, you’re going to be the one begging me to fuck you.” he says in a more demanding tone, a small smirk on his lips. “i don’t like to ask nicely.”

i sigh, rolling over onto my stomach so i could face him completely. “then you’re fucking the wrong woman, thomas.”

he shook his head, cupping my cheek and kissing me once more. “oh, believe me, i think i’m with the exact woman i need to be fucking.” he sits up, rolling out of the bed and to the dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear.

“let’s discuss this communist issue one more time, work out the details.” he says, slipping his boxers on. “and if we come to an agreement tonight, i’ll ask nicely again in the morning, unless you need to get back to your people?"

i stand up, picking up my underwear and sliding them on, as thomas hands me a larger white shirt to put on. “i think i’d rather you ask again tonight, mr. shelby. my people can wait overnight if it's for a good cause.” i tease, opening the bedroom door before walking back out to the dining room table, grabbing the half-empty glass of wine and taking it down in one sip.

thomas stands behind me, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the table, pressing himself up against me, placing his palm on my back to push me down on the furniture. "let's push our meeting back a few more minutes then. here's me asking, miss [y/n]."

he begins to kiss my neck and i reach between my legs, pushing my panties to the side as i hear his boxers hit the floor. this was going to be an unexpectedly long night.

#smut writing #fanfic #x yn #x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

859 notes · View notes

smokingrapunzel · 1 month

Text

Smoking in all white🤍🤍

#smoking #smokingrapunzel #smoke #smoker #capnolagnia #girl smoking #long hair #sexy smoker #sexy smoking #smoking female #smoking cigarette #cigarettes #cork cigarette #cigarette #smokinggoddess #marlboro #marlboro reds

261 notes · View notes

jpf50 · 7 months

Text

#cigarette smoking #smoking beauty #smoking girl #smoking cigarette #smoking female #smoking woman #smoking corks #love female smoking #smoking #smoking candid

292 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 4 months

Text

drink from me

a sherry-laced conversation about thirst and running away. zosan | 2k | hurt/comfort

Being a coward isn’t as easy as one might think.

It’s juxtaposition in its own right; cowardice is, as defined, a lack of bravery— And yet Sanji supposes it takes bravery to be able to ditch everything you stand for. To turn tail and run. Bravery to bear upon your shoulders the disappointment of everybody who had ever believed in you.

He sighs deeply, tilting the bottle in his hand so that the dregs of liquor slosh within. This is why he doesn’t drink.

It’s relatively easy most days. To lock his past behind a set of double doors, bar the handles with a padlock and chain so he can pretend that everything he’s running from isn’t just three paces behind, snapping at his heels, starved and ready to eat him up whole. Alcohol slots the key back into place and twists it without his permission. Twists his heart until it aches.

He doesn’t know why he’d started. The bottle of sherry had sat, nondescript and guileless and half-full on the galley table after the night’s dessert, and Sanji had paused before he’d slowly wrapped his fingers around the neck of it and let his nails scrape against the dark glass.

The cork had popped almost too easily and here he is now, taffrail digging into his forearms as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and lets bitter smoke fill his lungs full to bursting. Blood orange coats the back of his tongue, cloyingly sweet, thick on the roof of his mouth— He’d made a layered trifle with cacao nibs and caramelised cream that had been slathered between slabs of boozy vanilla sponge, and the aftertaste clings to his teeth. Sanji peers down as what’s left of the sherry glimmers vaguely inside the bottle and fights the urge to chug the rest.

He could, if he really wanted to. He hardly drinks but it certainly doesn’t mean he can’t.

A soft scrape against wood catches his attention, barely perceptible. He fights to keep his spine from stiffening, fights to maintain his loose-limbed, easy demeanor; the liquid warmth in his veins helps some but not enough, and he’s halfway through another drag when near-silent footsteps stop just behind him.

Zoro’s haori shifts in the wind, palm loosely wrapped around the end of Wado’s hilt where she’s strapped alone to his hip. “Was wondering where you went,” he says easily, looking out over the ocean.

Sanji scoffs. It burns his throat more than the sherry did. “For someone built like that, you’re surprisingly quiet, marimo.”

The immediate urge to kick himself is something new. He rarely feels it— It appears often, don’t get him wrong, he just. Ignores it. It’s a little more difficult tonight. Built like that. The noise that escapes him is mirthless. What’s that even supposed to mean, huh? Alcohol’s always made him snappy and he does feel bad for once — But he’s tired, and the chores won’t do themselves.

“Make it quick, would you?” he mutters when Zoro still hasn’t replied, low and quiet in the still evening air as he curves down to dig the heel of his palm into his temple. “My spice jars are still all over the counter, and I have to mop the floor before I wash the dishes—”

“It’s done.”

Sanji blinks, before his eyes narrow and he turns his head to look at Zoro properly. “The dishes?”

“Everything.” The swordsman huffs when Sanji gives him a dubious look, gaze flicking over and away again as he rolls his eye. “Luffy asked me to clean up the galley. Said you needed a break.”

Well. The cook exhales, measured, and buries his face into the crook of his elbow. Taps his cig so that ash doesn’t fall into his hair where he’s holding it aloft above his head. “Tell him thanks, but I don’t.”

He clocks it out of his peripheral vision when Zoro smirks and waves a hand to gesture to his cigarette and his slouch and the glass bottle dangling against wood. “What’s this, then?”

I don’t know. Shop’s closed, please fuck off and come back tomorrow morning.

The other words that sit at the tip of Sanji’s tongue are far more scathing. He feels them, bites them back viciously before he can burn anyone other than himself. “If there’s a single thing out of place in there I’m gonna—”

“Kick my ass, I know, I know.” Zoro chuckles under his breath. “Don’t you get tired of saying the same things over and over again?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly choose to be selectively deaf, moss-for-brains.”

The swordsman huffs another soft laugh, and conversation peters out after that. Sanji feels an itch building at the base of his skull, flickering just under his skin; it’s making him restless. He taps the bottle against the rail just to fill the silence. Zoro reaches a hand out and Sanji gives it to him easily, unthinkingly, watching and pretending he isn’t as the swordsman thumbs over the faded paper label that’s peeling at the corner.

Zoro’s hands are scarred, he notes. He knows this, of course, but he never gets tired of letting his gaze drift over tan skin and old scars, thin slivers of pearly tissue painted silver in the moonlight. A breeze ruffles his hair as Zoro finally drinks, and he’s distantly surprised to see that it’s a measured sip and not a swig like what it usually would have been.

Fucking hell. Sanji’s inhale shudders when he pushes himself up and stands straight, now-free hand wrapping around lacquered wood as he finishes his cigarette and tosses the butt over the side. He needs to stop thinking. He’s paying too much attention. There’s a pressure building behind his forehead and Zoro is an overwhelming presence beside him, unavoidable, stoic and staunch as ever, perfect posture, perfect honour, a sentinel with a pure white sword like some sort of— of hero from a storybook. Perfect perfect perfect.

It’s all building like a scream behind his lips, a river at a bottleneck, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in. Grits his teeth until he hears them creak because what would happen if he opened his mouth? Nothing good, he’s sure. Nothing anyone needs.

Sanji nearly startles when the bottle taps against his elbow. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say,” he replies immediately, taking a careless gulp and holding in a cough.

Zoro’s slow exhale feels like it shifts the wind itself. Their ship creaks gently. “You always have something to say, curls.”

“Look, you—” He cuts himself off, tempering his breath. “I’m tired, alright? So can you just get to the point?” Fuck, he needs another cigarette.

Maybe that’s the problem. He knows he’s the problem, sure, but Sanji suspects that he’s been running for so long that he’s forgotten how to walk. It’s grown into him like weeds wound through his ribs, the way he sees poison in water that’s perfectly clean, the way peace makes him more anxious than chaos does. He needs to stop running. He doesn’t know how.

Zoro pries the sherry from his fingers and it’s only then that he relaxes the death grip he’d unintentionally had, a shudder slipping over his shoulders. Zoro holds the bottle loosely between his scarred fingers and doesn’t drink.

The silence thickens. Static crackles within his bones.

Sanji doesn’t know why he starts talking. Doesn’t know why it feels like a dam breaking in his chest, but his mouth is open, and the words are emptying out. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder for something that isn’t there. Luffy gave me something to run towards, for once, but—”

He doesn’t know how to say it’s not enough without sounding ungrateful, without being greedy. “Sometimes I think I could… consume every one of the Blues, and still want more,” he allows. “Need more.” His fingers lace together, and Sanji dips his head with a wry smile even as he looks at the endless expanse of sky in front of them. “I’m afraid I’ll drink the world and still come up dry.”

There is a thirst in him. Something different than what had wracked him for a month on that barren rock. Hunger he can handle; he eats just enough to stave it off and goes about his day. This, though— Sanji can’t help the way it buzzes in the back of his head and keeps him wound up like a coil of electrical wire. He kneads dough and whisks egg whites just to have something to do with his hands. He defaults to his usual barbs when he’s feeling ungrounded so he can kid himself into thinking he possesses some semblance of normality. His shoulders ache as he stares out over the sea and wonders what it’s like to hold so much and still, still, be so achingly empty.

The winds change, carding cool fingers through his hair.

“Drink from me,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s breath catches between his teeth.

His head snaps up to find Zoro already looking at him, face unreadable, elbows on the taffrail and bottle cupped in his hands. The swordsman looks serene, Sanji thinks. Gaze trained straight ahead, ever clear of his objectives as Wado gleams at his side, starlight in an ivory sheath.

“Drink from me,” he repeats. The words are solemn as they always are in moments like these, the liminal space just after dusk but before true night, as his eyes shift over to Sanji and lock in place. “I won’t let you go thirsty again.”

Sanji’s mouth dries. It’s hard not to feel pinned as Zoro looks at him; the weight of his gaze is almost physically tangible, like a familiar green coat settling over his shoulders. That’s the thing about Zoro— For all Sanji jokes about him having plant life in his skull, the swordsman has a penchant for dropping absolutely earth-shaking statements without even seeming to think about them at all. The cook swallows once, twice, tries to find his words as his lips part and loses them as soon as he takes his next breath.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop feeling like a ticking time bomb. But as Zoro’s lashes flutter and he looks away, Sanji feels something in him settle. The relentless buzz that always seems to sit just beneath his skin soothes out into a quiet hum.

Maybe part of it’s how Zoro’s scarred and still perfect. Untouchable. Sanji couldn’t hurt him even if he tried, even if he blows apart.

His fingers wrap, unthinking, around the neck of the bottle as it’s pushed back into his hand, the pressure of Zoro’s touch lingering until he’s sure that Sanji has a good grip. The swordsman’s boots brush softly across the planks as he turns to leave and he’s halfway to the stairs before Sanji speaks.

“Marimo.”

He knows Zoro turns without even looking. “Hm?”

“Did Luffy really ask you to clean up the galley?”

A pause, before Zoro starts walking again. “Get some sleep, cook. I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

The silence he leaves in his wake is honey-thick. First watch is Sanji’s shift, it always is— He cleans up the galley and stays awake until Zoro comes to take over.

(The galley is clean. His watch is covered. His mind is quiet.

For once, he can’t find himself another reason to stay.)

The sherry holds no evidence of them ever having shared it. Sanji lifts the tinted glass and there’s no trace of Zoro, no proof that his mouth had ever been where Sanji’s is— None of the candied orange and rosemary from the duck they’d had for dinner, gamey and blood-sweet.

I won’t let you go thirsty again.

Sanji tastes it still, gentle in the back of his throat as he drains the bottle.

#wrote this all listening to hozier #not a necessary accompaniment but cherry wine fits the mood perfectly even though the lyrics don’t 😌#zosan #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece zosan #one piece sanji #zoro #zoro x sanji #one piece zoro #when will i ever stop angsting sanji you ask? NEVER #cuffs him over the head because he doesn’t know how to accept affection LOOK AT HOW MUCH ANGST I CAN FIT IN THIS BAD BOY #ino writes #will i ever stop using fruit and food and liquor as symbolism? also never

251 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 7 months

Text

Bar Shift: Part 4 (Finale)

And just like that, this little collection is complete! I hope you enjoyed reading my writing as I develop my style.

Word Count: 3,407

Part 3 here.

You immediately found Tori and gave her a warm hug and dismissing her from her duties before seeking out Jacob.

“What’s on the agenda?” you asked him while picking up a rag and beginning to wipe down the bar.

“I’ll do the till and start getting knock-offs ready for the chefs, if you start shutting down the unoccupied areas and chuck on the closing setlist,” he nodded at you with a warm smile, “don’t worry, I’ll leave Sanji’s for you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you smiled at Jacob and continuing to wipe down the bar and collect empty drinking vessels, “anything interesting happen while I was on my fifteen?”

“Oh, the usual,” he shrugged, “some green-haired swordsman challenged the broody swashbuckler to a duel. I’m placing my bets on the wine-drinker, to be honest with you.”

You hummed in response before making your way over to start cooling down the room with a slow set-list. You shuffled the bar regulars into the broader communal space and bid farewell to the ones done with their dining experience at Baratie.

“Hello pumpkin,” you heard Patty call from behind you. You groaned in response, knowing he was going to playfully jab at you regarding your encounter with Zeff earlier in the morning.

“Hello, you crusty old peppercorn,” you jabbed back at him, causing him to laugh in response. A swarm of chefs entered the bar area, their white chef’s jackets, blue cravats and tall hats removed from their bodies to reveal their casual underclothes.

“Got anything special for knock offs?” he asked you with a warm smile. You collected an empty pitcher formerly containing an amber ale and held it in your arms as you wiped down the surface.

“Jacob’s getting some beer ready for you, if you’re keen,” you responded offhandedly.

“I am absolutely keen, sweetheart,” he responded, clapping a firm hand on your shoulder affectionately. You scrunched your nose at him before ushering him out of your way so you could continue packing down the bar.

After you collected the final miscellaneous pieces of glassware in your arms and placing them in the sink behind the bar, you decided to commence the task of creating something special for Sanji to enjoy. Sure, you’ve shared a bottle of wine or two between you, but after the meal he prepared for you earlier this morning; you couldn’t just bring out any old thing.

You pursed your lips and looked to the vast amount of ingredients laying before you. Several different whiskey varieties, vermouth, wood chips, citrus and rum were calling to you specifically. You then allowed a broad smile to fall over your face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” you heard Jacob call over your shoulder. You turned to him with a determined look on your face.

“Oh no,” he said with a mock surprise, “you’re going to bring out the big cannons, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes I am,” you responded cracking your neck slightly at the challenge.

“You’re gonna do the Rum Martinez?” he asked you with a quirked brow.

“I’m gonna do the Rum Martinez,” you confirmed with a nod of your head, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Good luck,” he said, patting your back before returning to line up several tankards of amber ale for the chefs as they arrived at the bar.

You collected apple tree wood chips, a blow torch, semi-sweet vermouth, maraschino liqueur, rum bitters and a bottle of one of the finest rums you had on the menu. You placed a tea strainer next to the bar, an empty corked decanter, a cocktail mixer and three glasses on the counter as you began your assembly. You also began rolling three cigarettes and placing them on the counter for later assembly.

As you began assembling this overly complex cocktail, you paid no mind to the amount of your coworkers watching your movements. One set of eyes you were particularly unaware of belonged to your boss, who decided to join his staff for a drink after retiring for the night. He quirked his brow as he saw you reach for the special reserve rum, but chose to remain quiet and not protest at the use.

You used the blowtorch to ignite the woodchips, setting the semi flame-thrower down and immediately dampening the chips with a maraschino cherry reduction. You placed the uncorked decanter over the smoke and successfully syphoned the fumes into the glass container, corking the bottle one completed. You set aside the now cloudy decanter and discarded the woodchips in the compost bin beneath the bar.

You moved on to preparing the liquids for this complex cocktail, pouring equal parts special reserve rum and the semi-sweet vermouth into the cocktail shaker. You brought a small, long armed teaspoon and placed a small portion of the maraschino liquor onto it before moving to place the spoon within the liquid. You scooped some ice into the metal shovel and placed several pieces into the liquid, twirling it to cool it down to a lower temperature for a solid minute.

“What are you making there, sweetheart? Looks overly complicated for a simple knock-off,” you heard Carne call over to you, prompting you to smirk in response.

“Leave her alone, Carne,” you heard your boss order the line cook, prompting your eyebrows to slightly raise, “I’m allowing it, just this once.”

You smiled to yourself, making a mental note to ask for permission, forgiveness and gratitude at him in future.

You brought the tea strainer to the liquid and moved it to the cloudy decanter, timing it in your mind.

“Uncork, strain, recork, swirl, uncork, sift” you repeated three times in your mind before you hyped yourself up enough to undertake the task.

You timed it perfectly: uncorking the smoke-riddled decanter, sifting the rum mixture into the jug without missing a drop, recorking the neck and you began to swirl the mixture within the walls of the glass container.

Sanji walked up from below deck, smiling at Patty and unbuttoning his wrists from his floor uniform and rolling them up. He walked over to the seat Zeff was atop, noticing the intensity of Zeff’s gaze at something behind the bar. He followed his gaze to fall directly on you, rotating a darkened liquid within a cloudy decanter. He smiled as he watched your concentration while you rotated the decanter for the final time, successfully imbuing the apple tree wood-chips into the liquid within.

He took a seat on the bar stool directly beside Zeff, which drew your attention immediately to the two kitchen superiors in front of you.

“Evening Chef,” you acknowledged Zeff first with a nod, “sous-chef,” you nodded at Sanji.

“Evening, Pumpkin,” Zeff responded with a small chuckle, “what are we having?”

You laughed at his question, knowing he would absolutely want a sample of this overly complicated concoction you had assembled: which was why you brought out three glasses instead on just two.

Although he had a complex relationship with the blonde sous-chef when it came to sampling new dishes; when alcohol was involved, his tastebuds were prepped and ready to participate.

“It’s called a Rum Martinez,” you said with a broad smile, placing two crystal short glasses in front of the two leaders of the kitchen. You uncorked the crystal decanter and began pouring 90mls of liquid into the three glasses in front of you. You smiled as you felt the gaze of both Sanji and Zeff completely fixate on the dark liquid as you poured it.

Zeff reached for the glass, prompting you to reprimand the chef.

“Tsk, tsk, impatient as always, Chef,” you scolded him, prompting him to release a low growl. You laughed at his reaction, reaching for the three cigarettes and bringing the filter end to your lips before reaching for the lighter in your lefthand pant pocket. You flicked the flint and ignited the ends of the three cylindrical objects before collecting them from your lips while exhaling away from your guests. You placed the cigarettes with the filters facing your head chef and sous chef with a smile, before doing the same with your own.

“This seems like an overly complex way to propose, but I accept,” Zeff laughed, reaching again for the glass which you finally allowed him to collect. You scrunched up your nose and felt again a blush rise to your cheeks in semi-embarrassment. Sanji laughed at your reaction and leaned in to collect his own glass, placing the cigarette between his lips and inhaling the nicotine ridden object while closing his eyes. As he held the smoke in his chest, he took a small sip of the rum cocktail and held it on his tongue. He released a long breath as he focussed on the burn your cocktail left on his tongue as his senses became engulfed by the flavours you presented before him.

“You’re a bit late, Chef,” Sanji exclaimed with a small smirk, “apparently we’re already married.”

You laughed at his comment, picking up the cigarette and drawing in a long breath while bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a sip. You exhaled the smoke through your nose while you gulped back the dark contents and savoured the burn it left behind.

You and Sanji exchanged glances now and again while you continued to aid Jacob in packing down the bar while refilling the tankards belonging to the chefs before you. You placed your glass down behind the bar while you wiped own the bar for the hundredth time this particular shift before removing the till and locking it, placing it in the safe below the bar.

“And I’m done,” you heard Jacob say next to you, “I’m cutting Carne off, by the way. No more for him.”

You laughed at his comment while welcoming him into an embrace as you felt the relief of completing a successful shift with your coworker.

“Well done, Jacob,” you laughed with him, finally feeling a tiredness overcome your body. Jacob held you there slightly before bringing you in to murmur quietly to you.

“I’ve decided I’m covering your split-shift tomorrow,” he smiled at you. You widened your eyes in shock, a large smile widening over your cheeks.

“You’re joking,” you exclaimed in delight.

“I am absolutely not,” he again murmured to you, “now go get your man.”

You laughed at him before playfully hitting his arm in response to his comment. You then looked over his shoulder to see Sanji looking at you with a vacant expression while engaging with Zeff.

“I’ve already marked it on the roster and signed you out,” he further clarified while exiting the bar to join the chefs for his knock off.

“You’re amazing, Jacob,” you called after him before turning to walk back over to Zeff and Sanji.

Zeff began rising from his place on the stool, and turned to exit the bar.

“Heading in, Chef?” you asked him with a smile on your face.

“Yes, love,” he responded with an exhausted expression on his face. You reached forward and patted his arm gently.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for inventory,” you chirped lightly at him, extending familial warmth to him.

“You absolutely will not,” he growled, “Jacob is covering for you. I’m going to teach him inventory. Enjoy your day off.”

You laughed at him before he dismissed you to make your way over to Sanji who was resting his elbows against the bar while waiting for you.

“Finally,” he exclaimed when you joined his field of vision, prompting you to tilt your head to the side coyly.

You retrieved your glass containing the complex drink you made earlier and brought it to your lips, knocking back the remainder of the liquid.

“Finally,” you confirmed with him after swallowing the flame-like, smoky liquid. He looked down at the bar bashfully before returning his gaze to you.

“When do you start tomorrow? I should let you turn in,” he said, a small amount of sorrow expressed in his tone.

“As it so happens,” you began while reaching for a bottle of sangiovese and collecting two wine glasses, “I’m off tomorrow.”

Immediately Sanji widened his eyes and extended a solid grin your way.

“So, I can keep you up past your bed time, then?” he asked you playfully, his grin turning into a small smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Honey,” you taunted him with a mischievous smirk, leaning your body over the bar to bring your face closer to his, “you can keep me up all night long.”

His playful glint fled from his face as he shifted his gaze between your eyes, flittering to your partially parted lips in complete silence at your comment. All playfulness seemingly fell from your face in turn, unsure as to if your comment was crossing some unwritten line between you and your coworker. The words truthfully fell from your lips faster than your brain could keep up with them, allowing your little proximity crush to possess your lips as they spurted those flirtatious words.

He suddenly removed his elbows from the bar and brought his hands to cradle your face between them and hungrily placed his lips against yours. You heard him sharply inhale through his nose as he opened his mouth to deepen the connection shared between you. You let out a small squeal at the passion of his actions and widened your eyes in shock at the haste of his sudden expression of desire. He held your face in the palms of his hands before snaking them to the back of your neck with a light moan as he gently massaged his fingers into the hairline at the nape of your neck. And as soon as the connection was brought between you, he pushed himself away from you and released his hands from behind your neck. His newly reddened lips were parted and his eyes were wide seemingly as in shock as you were at the wild intensity that his body voiced to you.

“I am so sorry,” he spluttered apologetically at you, refusing to bring his off-guard gaze to meet yours. You bit your lip and looked at the bar, still in shock from the kiss you shared with him.

It felt like a full century had passed between you, although in reality it had only been a few seconds of uninterrupted, awkward silence. You turned your head and softened your gaze to look at the young sous-chef in front of you, as he continued to fixate his sights on the polished wooden bar in front of you both. Partially fuelled by the flaming liquid you consumed earlier and the knowledge that Sanji potentially returned your formerly unrequited infatuation with him, you mustered up some courage to perform something you never thought you would.

You hoisted yourself on top of the empty bar in front of him, tucking your knees beneath you to sit on top of your calves. He snapped out of his trance and brought all of his attention to your actions. You reached down and grasped his jaw between your hands, lifting him to plant his feet on the ground rather than remaining sitting atop the wooden stool. You allowed your hair to cascade over your shoulder as you leant down and brought your lips against his own for the second time tonight.

It was Sanji’s turn to be in complete shock as you began to physically return the kiss he planted against your lips moments prior. You laced your fingers in his hair and raked it away from his face while tilting his jaw up for you to deepen the kiss. You rolled your head slightly while teasing the entrance of his mouth by flickering his bottom lip with your tongue.

The small flick of your tongue seemed to break his trance as he reached up and wrapped his bare arms around your thighs and hoisted you off the top of the bar; prompting a delighted gasp to escape from between your lips. In one swell movement, he sat your body on his lap as he took a seat once more atop the bar stool. He moved his arms from beneath your legs to allow you to relax now, fully sat on his lap, choosing to embrace your lower back with his right hand to secure your body against his own. His left hand moved to the space between your shoulder blades and pulled you flush against his torso as he moaned into the kiss.

You felt him smile against your lips as he moved his own tongue out to flick playfully at your own. You gasped at that small flicker, using your tongue to move beneath his and caress the small piercing located beneath his tongue you saw earlier this morning. He moaned in response to you finding the small piercing, which prompted you to laugh slightly into the kiss.

He stood once more, gently lowering your body to your feet without breaking the kiss. You moved your hands down to his neck, successfully locating his navy tie hanging loosely from his neck. You successfully laced your hand around it and used it to lever him closer against you to maintain some semblance of control in this completely unforeseen turn of events.

Sanji grinned into the kiss before being the first to pull away from your grip. He looked at you through half-lidded eyelashes with a look of pure adoration overcoming his features. You attempted to bring his lips against yours for a third time, but he stopped you from continuing your assaulting flurry of passionate kisses. You widened your eyes at his actions, again assuming you somehow misread the situation unfolding between you.

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you gasped out in shock, apologising for your sudden intimate outburst.

“No apologies necessary, princess,” he replied with a bashful smile, “I was very much enjoying our little kiss and I want nothing more than to kiss you again.”

You quirked your head to the side and released his tie from your restraining grasp, opting to lace them behind his neck instead. He continued to hold your lower back in an embrace, tracing small circles into your skin.

“What’s stopping you from kissing me again now?” you asked him, creasing your brows in confusion but continuing to smile at the blonde chef. He exhaled a light laugh before nodding his chin to the corner of the bar.

You shook your head before following his gaze to meet with the beady and ever watchful eyes of the Den-Den Mushi Snail Zeff had placed in the corner of the bar earlier in the year to catch potential thieves from stealing liquor and berry from the till. You froze against him, prompting him to laugh again at you before caressing your cheek to return your gaze to seek out his own.

“That was watching the whole time?” you hissed through gritted teeth at him.

“I only just noticed it myself,” he took a deep breath through his nose and held it slightly, “just before you decided to crawl over the bar, to be completely honest.”

You groaned and pressed your forehead against Sanji’s chest in an attempt to shield you from further embarrassment. You felt him smile as he pressed his lips to the side of your head and held you in an embrace.

“C’mon,” he said, capturing your chin with his thumb and index finger and bringing your eyes to meet his, “let’s go to the kitchen. We’ll break in to the old man’s office, take back any pictures the bloody thing took and I’ll cook you anything you want.”

You smiled warmly at him and pressed your lips against his in what was intended to be a partially chaste kiss. Instead; he held your chin firmly and continued the kiss, chasing your lips as you intended to pull away from him with his own. You smiled against his lips before patting his chest to signal for him to break from your lips.

“Enough,” you emphatically scolded him in a playful whisper before pulling away from his embrace and briskly making your way towards your boss’s office.

“You’ve been teasing me over these past few years, what do you expect?” he called after you with a teasing tone. You chose not to acknowledge his taunt, which caused him to bite his lip before twirling his piercing between his teeth and follow closely behind you.

#one piece #sanji #sanji opla #sanji x reader #x reader #opla

273 notes · View notes

aphroditesswan · 9 months

Note

OML THANK U FOR RESPONDING TO MY QUESTION 😭🙏

Okay so like how about this...

Chuuya and reader/y/n are dating, but she's been hanging out with dazai more often then with him. But in reality they ploting a surprise for him for an anniversary or his birthday! (Gender can be any I don't mind!)

Angst to fluff please 😢🙏

Can be either a short fic, headcanon or anything I don't mind as long as ur confterble and happy! Anyways have a nice day/night (might request more in the future...) ♡♡

rather melodramatic, aren’t you?

chuuya nakahara x gn! reader

warnings : a lotttt of drinking, jealousy, insecurities in the relationship

summary : chuuya absolutely loses himself thinking of why you would pick dazai of all people over him to hang out with, jumping to conclusions until you get home to explain everything.

genre : angst to fluff with like one suggestive comment

notes : i listened to cigarettes out the window, a pearl, step on me, the other woman christmas kids, and mr loverman for this so if you see any references to those, they were most def intentional 😭

its been a week and you’ve been hanging around that idiotic dazai, probably out flirting and getting all close to him…

at least that’s how it was in chuuya’s eyes.

he was a bit delusional and when you sprinkle dazai in along with the absolute insanity that goes on in his head, it can’t lead to anything good.

maybe you’re growing tired of him, he thinks.

maybe you’ve grown to love that idiot more than him, he thinks.

there are infinite possibilities running through chuuya’s head as he consistently drinks away this thoughts, the days and nights feeling utterly, completely, inexplicably empty without you.

you fill the hole in his heart that he’s had for as long as he can remember, and to think he’d have dazai take that away from him??

not on his watch.

well… his sober watch.

he threw his hat onto the couch, grabbing a bottle of wine without even looking at the cabinets for a cup. he didn’t care at l this point, all he wanted was to forget the ache in his chest, the spinning in his stomach, the burn of tears in his eyes as he flopped his back flat on the bed, breathing deeply to at least try and calm himself even a little bit.

but he knew that was pointless.

he felt like nothing without you. sure he was an important figure in the Port Mafia but without you? please, his status and power could’ve meant the same as a dirty nickel he almost tripped on while walking on the sidewalk.

he opened the bottle, sitting up as he did so he didn’t spill it all over his soft silk sheets. those were expensive, not worth the mess he thought.

he chugged a bit of it, throwing the cork into a forgotten corner of the room as he threw his head back to throughly get the most out of his five second gulp.

he slammed it onto the nightstand, the aggression in his movements aimed at you, at dazai, at his insecurities. he tore his gloves off, throwing them onto the nightstand before putting his hands over his face, his fingers in his hair as he quietly cried into his hands.

he wished he was better. he knew him and dazai were a team at times, that you wouldn’t do this to him, that he was just as good as everyone else if not better…

but he couldn’t shake it. he couldn’t shake his insecurities, his anxieties all because of dazai.

he’d drink himself to death inside a prison cell before he admits that though.

he just wished that you wouldn’t disappear from his life, he’d let you do whatever you want as long as you stay with him. okay, that was a lie, he isn’t a pushover. a devoted boyfriend? absolutely but a doormat? never.

he grabbed the cold dark bottle of wine again, drinking and crying the rest of the sunset away as all he could think and worry about was whatever the hell you and dazai were doing and why you had barely texted him all week.

he paced through your shared bedroom, talking rather loudly to himself as he tried to come up with reasonable explanations, his reasoning for your absence getting more and more insane as he kept drinking.

thankfully, he heard you finally walk through the door. he quickly grabbed his hat, throwing it on as he went to meet you at the door with his cheeks flushed and his eyes dazed from alcohol.

“there you are! do you- do you know how long i’ve been waiting for you- to get back? i swear i was about to text you and ask what- what position you two were in for fucks sake i-“

he rambled on and on until he saw your amused yet concerned smile… and a gift bag in your hand…?

“what the hell- stop smiling like that! don’t tell me dazai got you that bullshit- you’ve got to be joking don’t tell me your-“

he was cut off by a kiss, his lips tasting like alcohol and his breath smelling the same. you counted the seconds until midnight like it was new year’s eve and although you could tell he was already breathless, you didn’t let go. he could hold out for just a bit longer, he’d have to.

as soon as it hit 12:00 and the notification for a very very special day popped up you let him go, the poor man almost falling straight into you.

“why-… the hell did you-“

“it’s april 29th chuuya.”

“what does that have to do with anything? i don’t give a single shit what the day is.”

“chuuya.”

“what??”

“it’s your birthday. happy birthday, love.”

you smiled, one hand still holding onto his shoulder and the other bringing up the gift bag you have for him. it takes him a good minute or two, but eventually his drunken mind put two and two together and figured out everything on its own.

“oh- ohhh… ugh, i’m so sorry dear.”

he groaned with a frown, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as he lazily wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you closer to him.

“it’s fine chuu, i missed you, you know. it’s not easy keeping secrets.”

“i’m glad you feel that way.”

he sighed into your shoulder, breathing in your scent. he thanked the gods that you didn’t smell a bit like dazai but just like you always do, maybe a bit tainted with wine and his cologne but that’s how he liked it, he was possessive like that.

“we can spend the day together… right? just us for today.”

“well after you get some sleep and a pill for your hangover, yes of course we can.”

“as long as you come with me, i accept.

“see? what would you do without me.”

“baby, i’m a wreck when i’m without you.”

sorry this was super short!! i wrote this at like midnight cause that’s when i get randomly motivated but i hope this is to your liking!! please feel free to request more :DD

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya angst #bsd angst #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs angst #chuuya fluff #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya nakahara angst #chuuya nakahara bsd #chuuya bsd

322 notes · View notes

vs120shound · 10 months

Text

SMOKING SWEETIES BRAND NEW: SMOKING LADIES PARTY 🚬 (7 BSWs GETTING DRUNK) 🚬

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ | Five "Stars"

From ericcartjman (SFK) | ★☆ (S/R)

Multi-Media 23-Pack

Dancing, getting so drunk -- smoking up a storm seven-fold (with an up-and-coming starlet to boot)!

. . . could they be having a better time? Probably not. All of SSW's multiple-BSW party series videos are unique but they share some prime characteristics: A lot of drinking. A lot of singing. And heavy, heavy chain light-ups often, indulgent joyous, addicted smoking. And they rarely are overdressed, showing much with which they were endowed -- up top, down below (caboose) and around their often taught bellies. They almost all appear as though they work-out religiously but with their habits with their cigarettes, it might be happening but the maintaining of a semblance of a high-quality fitness level would be demanding. Smoking and being a regular on a treadmill or stationary bike are kinds of incongruous. Wouldn't you say? This clip highlights some outstanding talking exhales, wonderful examples of the rarely seen "residual" exhales, superb light-up, hard core dragging and some top-notch, powerful exhales. These 7 new BSWs look scrumptious; they look divine; they look delightful. They are seductive, sultry and sexy. All are good looking and some are gorgeous, or their beauty quotients put them on the cusp of that status. This all applies to this video of "Smoking Ladies Party" -- which is hot off the presses -- as it does to the others from Smoking Sweeties' related series. Web-master/web producer Fran has set standards for these kinds of videos. So they are consistent by featuring similar attributes in style and flavor, with alike action from these lovely Spanish BSWs. The titles of the 12 videos in the same SSW genre include: Dance Class Meetup with 4 Smokers, 3 Smoking Girlfriends - Part 1, 3 Beginners Playing Pool, Smoking Ladies Night, Lucy and Ainhoa: The Chimney Girls, 3 Chimneys Talk about Smoking, 5 Chimneys in the Wine Cellar, 4 Chimneys in the Wine Cellar, 3 Chimneys in the Wine Cellar, 4 Heavy Smoking Girls Playing Cards, 4 Heavy Smoking Girls and, let's not forget, 3 Chimneys Playing Cards.

From the site administrators' narrative on the Smoking Sweeties post of "Smoking Ladies Party":

"Seven beautiful girls from different generations have come together. They are all regular smokers of [cork-tip] cigarettes in their real lives. . . . " . . . During the first 25 minutes of the video, the girls share some drinks while smoking and talk about their smoking habit. Talking exhales, open mouth inhales and large cone exhales are on display here. "The topics of conversation include how they started to smoke, sneaking cigarettes from their mothers, how they hid in high school to smoke their first cigarettes, their favorite cigarette of the day. And how their boyfriends have unsuccessfully tried to make them quit."

And to an extent, Fran might have discovered an emerging SF star, Nerea, the youngest of the lot who specializes in those outrageous French inhales. "She shines among them," the video's narrative proclaims. Two of the five reviews on the website on the first day of its release made mention of Nerea -- in glowing terms. Maybe we have a star in the making here in Nerea. She is already gaining fans within the Greater SF World Community. Now an excerpt from one of the five reviews posted to SSW, within the first 17 hours of its publication:

10 hours ago, by Raul

"The girl with the septum piercing [nose ring] desperately needs a solo video, as she stands out from the rest. She has an absolutely perfect face and you can tell she was born to smoke. She has the potential to be a smoking goddess like [SSW SF models] Lorena and Victoria."

Added in late-June 2023. Thanks to ericcartjman for the original post on Smoking Fetish Kingdom. Credit is deserved by the vs120shound staff for arranging all the details to bring to posting in a few handful of hours (some had outside work obligations to navigate while pitching in for our post's production). Quite a debut for each of these seven would-be SF models. Quite a snazzy introduction to the perhaps looming Smoking Ladies Party series.

SSW's 'OFFICIAL' ACCOMPANYING PHOTOS

Now for all 22 pictures released with the post within the past 24 hours on SmokingSweeties.com (Spain) but they are re-arranged in vs120shound style: