I Will Admit Law Won Some Cool Points With Me For This

Hes so precious

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How many dreams to say "I love you?" (iv)

Summary: Zoro can't keep his feelings bottled up anymore. They've got to come out sooner or later. Will he be able to bring himself to confess how he feels, or will you beat him to it? ~5k words.

Part 4 of 4. (read part 1 here!) CW: Afab reader (w/gendered language, she/her pronouns). Reader gets drunk (sorry to those of you who abstain!), pining, tension, heart ache! (and... kissing). This is sfw but other parts of the story are very much not.

Part 4: "So, there."

Have you ever had a dream that was just emotions? No images, concrete thoughts or concepts, just raw, harrowing feelings?

The night after the encounter with the hostile pirate group, Zoro had one of those dreams. His sleep was fitful, distorted by intense feelings of worry and anxiety. He woke up early in the morning, sweating and distraught. He felt sick.

Unable to go back to sleep, he started his day. An ice-cold shower to distract himself and rinse off the stress from his dreams. He ate a sparse breakfast and sat on the deck, looking at the peaceful sea as the sun rose.

It was high time to get this over with, Zoro thought. He was tired of feeling scrambled in the head and tired of feeling guilty for evading being truthful to you. As your crewmate and best friend, you deserved his honestly. The mental gymnastics needed to end, and he needed to get this off his chest—the fact that he was in love with you—as soon as possible.

When you broke the thick chains and opaque brick concealing and masking his capacity for love (placed there by trauma and years of regret) you freed feelings that boiled and festered for many months. Your presence in his dreams and the workings of his subconscious slowly forced him to come to terms with this part of himself. The part of himself that was very much capable of love, that wanted it, and wanted you. He was forced to become acquainted with this aspect of himself, to sit with it, and to speak with it.

The self-realizations were at the same time elucidative and perturbing. What else about himself had he yet to become aware of? What else was there inside of him that he needed to recognize?

His stoicism thus far was nothing more than a farce, he told himself. To reckon with and control himself he had to be self-aware. Truly self-aware.

Zoro knew that ignoring your persistent presence in his mind and heart wasn’t going to solve any problems—it wasn’t going to aid his control over his emotions, wasn’t going to clear his head, wasn’t going to make himself feel better, and damn well wasn’t going to make you feel better. You were lodged in his heart and brain like a splinter that he couldn’t get out.

So, it was settled. Out with it. For better or for worse, it needed to happen.

The following night, the pair of you finally had drinks together and talked. You grabbed a couple bottles of sake and asked Zoro, “So, where do you want to go?”

He shrugged. “Crow’s nest?”

“That’s what I thought you would say. You love it up there.” When you smiled at him, Zoro felt like he couldn’t look at you—he was worried you see how tortured his eyes were, that you could read everything in his face.

The feeling was mutual. The tension in the air was palpable, as much as you tried to tell yourself that you were imagining it.

You were exhausted. Not from lack (or quality) of sleep, like Zoro, but the combination of the battle yesterday, your (actual) wound, and your lovesickness were crushing. Resigned and at your wits end with this man, you told yourself that if Zoro asked you the right series of questions, he would find answers for himself. You were at a breaking point.

If he prodded you for more information on why you felt like shit, he’d crack open something that should be left alone. You really didn’t want to share more about the fact that you felt alone and empty the past few weeks. But… you had a feeling that Zoro wanted to dig into the topic again. You dreaded it.

You climbed to the crow’s nest with Zoro around sunset. Opening the windows, you let in the golden rays of the setting sun and a cool breeze.

“It’s gorgeous out,” you observed, relishing the sea air that drifted in, salty and familiar. “Wow.”

The pair of you sat on a bench parallel with the row of windows. You were facing each other, straddling the bench so your knees almost touched. This was a sort of routine for you two—you used to do this frequently together, but it had been a while.

It was the early hours of sunset, right when the sun started to descend, and the horizon was stunning shades of pink, orange, and indigo. Zoro took a second to admire you as you stared out the window. Tendrils of sea air brushed your hair back, shining a heavenly shade of golden that reflected in your irises and off your cheek bones.

The make-believe you from Zoro’s dreams—the fantasy version of you that he spent every night with for the past two weeks—paled in comparison to the real you, radiant, material, tangible, and true. As he gazed at you, his heart twisted a bit.

“I love this type of sake.” You smiled once again, filling in the silence that took over the air as Zoro gawked at you. After a beat, Zoro opened the bottles, handing you one.

“It’s my favorite,” Zoro replied.

“I know it is.”

You raised your bottle for a toast. “Cheers to finally catching up after far too long!”

Your eyes flashed and Zoro’s heart did a flip. This sensation of being flustered felt so out of character, but he was caught up in the fact that tonight was the night he was going to confess.

The conversation started upbeat and friendly. You laughed together—you were one of the only people who could make Zoro laugh so hard he cried. You were making each other feel better, too. Spirits on the ship were a little low since yesterday and both you and Zoro felt it. But as you spent time together, Zoro felt a bit better because he missed you and wanted to be close to you, and he didn’t know it, but you felt the same.

You talked about Zoro’s new weight-lifting routine, some crazy dance move Usopp pulled out the other night, and the delicious soup Sanji made the other day (Zoro admitted that the shit cook’s soup was delicious, but he could only say that to you, no one else). The conversation wandered to sea kings, silly interactions with Chopper, and Franky’s new shirt (it was neon orange and camouflage, quite the attention grabber).

Your giggles made him feel like he was floating, and his smiles felt like home.

Zoro wished he could pause this moment in time and save it—that it could last forever, or that he could return to it sometimes when he wanted to. All of it was picturesque. He couldn’t believe how many of these nights you’d had together, nights that he never appreciated like he should have.

He had been in denial for months, egregiously so. He had been blind to the love for you that was brewing within him. Now that he could see his emotions for what they were, now that he was jolted and rocketed out of the opacity that locked his heart up, he could see that his love for you was plain as day. It was screaming at him, begging him.

 He was in agony, and you had suffered far too long.

Zoro’s thoughts raced while you told him some cute little story. One part of him was laser focused on your beauty and the rays of setting sun that lit your eyes up. It was breathtaking. Another part of him was trying to keep up with what you were saying, but he was distracted. And a third part of him felt intoxicated. Everything you did overwhelmed him. It was like he was being hit over the head with realization after realization—a sequence of memories flashed in his mind.

One night, two or three months ago, you two were drinking. You had gotten far too drunk and you were on the verge of falling asleep somewhere random on the deck. Your shirt rode up a bit showing your stomach, the strap of your tanktop fell down one shoulder, and your eyes were sleepy.

“Zoroooo,” you mumbled. “Wanna go to bed.”

He looked at you, tutted, and pulled his hoodie off. He then helped you put it on—it was a chilly out and he saw goosebumps on your skin. You murmured out a thank you and slumped into his arms. He sighed and scooped you up, carrying you to your room.

He liked how you felt in his arms. Your weight. Your warmth. The way your head rested on his chest. The look of you in his hoodie. How close you were. Back then he tried to ignore it.

Zoro then tucked you into bed. You looked like you were out cold, but when he pulled the covers up so you would stay warm, you opened your eyes, half-asleep. You lifted both arms up and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Zorooo,” you slurred out your words, blurting them carelessly. “Wanna hug.”

He leaned over the bed and into your arms, clasping you into an embrace. You hummed and didn’t let go for a few moments. When he pulled away, you petted his hair for a second, mumbled out a “night night” and went to sleep for good.

Looking back at the moment you asked him for a hug, Zoro realized that his heart had done that twisting thing; it was butterflies. He recalled that he just stared at you for a second. Your face was peaceful, eyes heavy, lips pouting. When you petted his hair, his heart did the thing again. He ignored it.

The next morning you had been sheepish, possibly because you remembered the affection you gave him, the hug and the hair pets. You thanked him for his hoodie and he said, “no problem.” That was that.

Another memory flashed into Zoro’s mind.

Some day, months ago, you and Nami went shopping. When you came back to the boat, you both tried on your new outfits and showed each other, fashion-show style. In passing, Zoro got a glance of you in a white dress. He had to stop himself from staring. It complemented you perfectly.

Sanji practically screamed, “MY LOVEEE~ You look absolutely ravishing tonight!” Then he got down on one knee and kissed both of your hands. Zoro remembered that something about that interaction pissed him off. He remembered thinking who does that shit cook think he is, fawning over you like you were a piece of meat.

When Nami very pointedly asked Zoro what he thought of your white dress, all he said was “suits you.” Looking back at that moment, Zoro kicked himself. The dress didn’t just suit you, it was made for you. Sanji had a point. You looked ravishing. He tried not to muse on it.

Another memory blitzed into his mind, a dagger to his heart. You were having drinks in the crow’s nest just like this, many months ago. You had looked at him earnestly and said, “Zoro, I like you. I really like you.”

Was this your attempt at a confession? You continued. “I could be around you all the time—I think we make a great pair.” You had that sweet smile on your lips.

Zoro had nodded and raised his glass. “To good friends!” He didn’t really notice it then, but now he realized that your smile faltered.

Looking back at that moment, he saw that you may have been alluding to something else. He unwittingly, cruelly, friend-zoned you. It was sort of brutal. When it happened, he shrugged it off like it was nothing, hadn’t had a second thought about it. Now he wondered how deeply that must have wounded you, if you felt any sort of way about him.

The final memory that his brain threw at him (while you were in the middle of giving him your story) was the moment when he first looked at you. It was a simple moment, insignificant until he realized that he loved you.

He felt drawn to you, from day one, immediately interested in you. Right off the bat, he thought you were beautiful, brilliant, and hilarious. When he thought back on that twisting feeling, the butterfly feeling, he could tell that it happened back then, too. Something fell into place that day, whether it was fate or luck. That day, he had you and you had him.

Zoro already came to terms with the fact that he loved you, and these memories further enforced the realization that he loved you all along. He just didn’t know how to express it and never thought himself capable of that sort of emotional depth. But you changed that. You flipped a switch in his mind. It was you all along.

“Zoro?” You asked, shocking him back into the present. “Are you okay? You looked like you zoned out there for a minute.”

“Fuck, sorry. I did. What were you saying?”

You smiled, told him no worries, and the conversation continued. His eyes were glued to your face, his heart and brain felt all shaken up, and he only knew two things—he knew that he loved you, and he knew that he wanted you to know that. No matter the consequences, it needed to come out. Preferably now.

The sun set by now. The horizon was a dark purple, the stars were starting to shine overhead, and the golden rays on your skin disappeared. There was a lull in conversation. Zoro took his chance.

“How have you been feeling since we had our lunch on the deck? I remember you said you were feeling down?” He attempted to ask with casual ease though his heart was racing. He was going to get to the bottom of it. All of it. Now. The privacy was perfect, you were perfect, the setting was perfect, all of it was perfect.

Your answer was reluctant. “I’ve been okay...”

“What’s up?” Zoro avidly watched your every movement. He inspected the way your eyes fluttered and the way your lips parted.

“Ugh.” You groaned. So it was going to be like this tonight. As you expected, he wanted to revisit the subject. “I don’t know, Zoro. I’ve just been feeling weird recently.”

“How so?”

“Hmmm. I guess I’ve been feeling a bit lonely. And empty.” Your lips were pursed, looking out of the window, at the sea. You could see the moon in the reflection of the waves. All was quiet except for the sound of the sea lapping the hull of the Sunny.

“Empty?” Zoro feigned surprise. He knew you were lonely. He overheard you sob about it a couple weeks ago.

The painful truths that you had been trying to keep bottled up when he was around? They started to shake inside. They wanted out of that bottle, stat. And you could only ignore those feelings for so long before they’d fucking explode. It had to come out sooner or later.

If Zoro pressed you any more than this, you might start losing it. The explosion was imminent.

“I know it’s going to sound ridiculous because I’m surrounded with people all the time, but I just feel empty. Like…” you hesitated, “I feel like I’m missing something. Someone. I just feel so lonely.”

“Oh?” His heart was pounding. You averted your eyes for a second and he thought you looked bashful. He took note of that.

“Sometimes I just wish I had someone by my side all the time. Like someone I could share everything with? If that makes sense.”

Zoro paused. “Yeah, that makes sense. It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all.”

You took a deep breath and exhaled. He could see it now, glaringly, a sadness that lingered in your eyes. He could see it and his heart ached.

"It might sound absurd, but I’ve been craving a sort of… Well, I don’t know. A sort of company? Love, maybe?” Your voice was strained. Zoro’s breath hitched at the word ‘love’. “I just get so sad thinking about it sometimes. Like I have this profound emptiness inside. And it feels so out of reach, like that love will never happen for me. And maybe that sounds ungrateful because I have company, and I’m surrounded by my best friends all the time but… I just want a different kind of company. A different kind of love.”

You looked at him and frowned. If you said any more than that, you were worried you would start crying.

More silence for a few moments. Zoro was trying to figure out what to say.

“Why do you feel like it will never happen?” He prodded. He meant well, but that was enough to send you over the edge.

You were emotionally distressed and recently it felt like it was all coming to a head. You had been trying to flirt and send signals to Zoro for months, to no avail. Any time he was near you, you felt like you were suffocating. And now that he was asking you these things, trying to get answers or explanations out of you, you felt like you would fall apart.

The problem himself was in front of you, asking you what was wrong and why you felt like love was out of reach. You didn’t want to say anything and ruin your friendship and you were convinced he would never see you that way. It was just a blatant reminder that he didn’t care about you the way you wanted. He seemed unphased by the whole conversation—he was cautious and curious but that was nothing new.

As you started to get overwhelmed, tears welled in your eyes. What the fuck were you supposed to say to him? The risk of altering the dynamic between you two, along with the pressure of possibly altering the dynamic of the crew… You started to catastrophize. The pressure was too much.

A hot tear escaped one of your eyes and ran down your cheek. The emotions were starting to erupt, and his presence was agitating that.

“Hey, are you okay?” Zoro was concerned with your silence and frown. He hadn’t noticed the tear yet, and he thought you looked like you were about to start crying.

You shook your head and turned away from him as more tears started to flow out. Now that the tears started, they wouldn’t stop until the sadness was gone. You were trying to put a cork in that bottle of sadness, but it wasn’t working.

A moonbeam landed on the side of your wet face. Zoro realized now, catching the glint with his eyes, that you were crying. Did you just make her cry? He berated himself. You wanted to talk about love with her, and you made her fucking cry?

“Sorry, Zoro. It just gets me worked up sometimes. Hurts really bad.” Small sobs started to wrack your body.

Zoro stared at you. His heart was actively breaking—he couldn’t bear seeing you in pain like this. He had only witnessed you crying once before, on the deck when you had the conversation with Nami that started all of this.

He scooted closer to you on the bench and your knees touched. His voice was hushed and gentle. “Hey.”

Reaching a hand up, the ran it softly down your shoulder to your upper arm, a tiny movement. He repeated it, petting you, trying to give you some solace, to show you that he was there. His touch was delicate, so unexpected from him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he continued, “and you can cry all you want. Don’t bottle it all up. I’m here for you.”

That note of sweetness you always saw in him was now bold, in full force as he comforted you. Your stomach flipped. He had never touched you like this before or seen you this emotionally vulnerable, nor you him. He said he was here for you, but how much did he mean that, and to what extent? You told yourself for the thousandth time that he would never be there in the way you needed.

“There are some things I have to bottle up, Zoro.” Your voice was almost a whisper. You were in anguish, and though your tears had stopped momentarily, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Not if it’s eating you up like this. It’s not worth it.” His hand went still.

If Zoro told you to not bottle things up, if he comforted you like this, then you might as well just fucking confess, you told yourself. But before you could force the words out of your mouth, he was one step ahead. The silence was too much for him.

His mouth went dry. Fuck it.

“You said you wanted someone to share everything with? Someone to always have by your side?” Zoro asked. “I wonder if I could do that?”

He was painfully close to you. Your knees still touched, and his hand rested on your arm. Your heart skipped a beat.

He must not have heard you right. There’s just no way. You were convinced that the situation was hopeless.

“Oh Zoro, you’re sweet, but I didn’t mean it in a friend way. I meant it in a romantic way. Like I wish I had someone to hold hands with and kiss and stuff.”

“I know.” His words hung in the air. You were dumbfounded. “How do you feel about me, really? You won’t screw anything up. Just please tell me how you feel about me. I’m going crazy.” His tone was urgent, and he leaned closer. Every inch closer made you feel dizzy.

You were immeasurably caught off guard, too stunned to speak. Meanwhile, Zoro didn’t really know how to handle himself. While you silently collected your thoughts, he started to blurt out words. When it came to this sort of thing, he didn’t have the most tact.

“I’ve been having dreams about you. Really intense ones. It’s been fucking with my head.”

“Dreams?” You asked, again not sure if you heard him right.

“When I look at you, I start to feel weird inside, like something is twisting in me. It’s driving me crazy. It’s been weeks at this point. I thought I was sick, or something, but I think it must be something else so, please, please, just tell me how you feel about me.”

“Zoro…” Your tone was cautious. He was acting weird—the comment about dreams was particularly odd—and you were too caught up in emotions to really process what he just word vomited at you. But if he was asking you questions this desperately, then he would get an answer. Might as well. Especially after what he just said.

“I feel things about you,” you began. “Intense things. I know you just see me as a friend, but… I just—my feelings are intense. It’s okay that you don’t reciprocate, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“Don’t reciprocate what?” He pushed further.

More silence. You were trying to decide how to it into words. Your mind raced.

“You won’t make it weird,” he continued, pleading. “Just tell me, really, how do you feel about me? What’s intense about it? Help me understand.”

Ugh. You didn’t have the energy to play it safe or coy right now. If you regretted it, then so be it.

No longer would this eat you up inside.

“Zoro, I’ve loved you for a long time.”

The realization hit him like lightning.

So it was him. In the conversation he overheard, where you were talking about love with Nami, you had been talking about him. You said it was hard to be around him.

It was so obvious now that his ignorance to your advances slighted you; his overt neglect to recognize to your love, his insistence that he didn’t have the capacity and could never find it—it must have hurt you deeply. Now that he knew how he felt, now that he was so sure of it, he hoped he could make it up to you. He would do anything.

You continued, your voice taking on a hurried tone. You needed to get it all out and explain yourself before he had the chance to say anything. “I know you don’t feel the same. I’ve picked up all the signals, and whenever I’ve tried to… I don’t know… flirt with you? It bounces right off you. I get it. We’re close friends and crew mates and I know we aren’t destined to become any more than that. So, there’s no need to apologize to me or anything. It’s fine, really, that you don’t see me like that. And I don’t want to make things weird, and I’m sure you don’t either, so whatever those dreams were then that’s fine. I’m happy just being your friend, you don’t need to be anything more than that, especially if it’s just out of pity. So that’s it basically. I’ve been lonely because when I spend time around you I just wish that—”

Each word you uttered pulled Zoro forward just barely. You could hardly get the words out, rambling to make the awkwardness go away and help him understand. But he cut you off mid-sentence, pressing his lips onto yours.

You went rigid, eyes open wide as he brought a palm to cup your cheek.

The kiss lasted a handful of seconds, brilliant fireworks of confusion and exhilaration coursed through you both.

You melted, easing the rigid tension of your body slowly, leaning into his lips that were softer than you could have imagined. The warmth of his palm on your cheek was comforting, familiar, and welcome.

When he pulled away, he was crimson. “Did that help at all? Did any of that loneliness go away?”

He started talking before you could answer him.

“I already said it but let me be clear,” Zoro said, “I want to be that person for you. I don’t want you to be sad anymore. I want to be that person you share everything with and always be by your side. You said you’ve loved me for a long time? I have, too. It just took me a bit longer to realize it. You’re always on my mind, even when I’m working out, or asleep, or eating... I-I count down the minutes until we talk again and your smiles just… They make my heart feel funny. I’m in love with you. There’s just nothing else these feelings could be. So, there.”

“So there?” You asked incredulously. The sudden deluge of emotions felt like a smack in the face. “Zoro, what?”

He didn’t know what to say next. This conversation didn’t go as he rehearsed it in his head and you were so shocked that you thought you’d faint.

“I said I'm in love with you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. I’m sorry. But hopefully I didn’t confess too late—and since you feel the same maybe you’ll let me, ah, fuck, I don’t even know how this works. Like, let me hold your hand… or something? Fuck. I’m so bad at this.”

He started to get redder, turning his face away from yours and taking his hand off your shoulder. This was a whole new side of him. An innocent, sincere, earnest side. A loving side. A side you dreamed about for ages.

If that was really how he felt, then you would welcome it with open arms.

This time, you brought a hand to his cheek and softly turned it towards you. His skin was hot, his brows were furrowed and he was doing a sort of grimace.

“Zoro. You’re something else. Are you absolutely sure you feel this way? Like, are you sure sure?”

He nodded and you cracked a grin.

“You should have told me earlier. But, if you’re certain…” you trailed off and held a hand out to him, palm up.

“What?” He looked at it, confused and clueless, and you pushed it towards him again with emphasis.

“Give me your hand, Zoro.”

The swordsman reached his hand out and placed it on yours. You moved your wrist a bit and threaded your fingers together with his, giving his hand a squeeze.

“You said you wanted to hold hands. So, there.” You smiled at him, and he squeezed back, turning even redder somehow. His hand was large; it felt strong, rough, and calloused. You had wondered for many months what it would feel like resting in yours like this.

In an uncharacteristically suave move, Zoro gently dragged your hand forwards, pulling you closer to him. He brought a hand to your waist and pressed his lips on yours again.

His hand felt heavy and strong on your side and his kiss tasted faintly like alcohol. He smelled just… manly and musky. But (surprisingly) clean. He must have showered today.

How was any of this real? How long had he known that he loved you?

Would you tell the crew?

What sort of relationship would this turn into?

You tried not to get lost in the details—those could be worked out later. For now, you needed to focus on how his lips felt on yours.

When Zoro pulled away from you, he kept his face close. “No more feeling lonely or empty, okay?”

You nodded, blown away by the delightful turn of events. Never in a million years would you have guessed that this is how the conversation would go.

“If you say so. Now,” you ventured, “before we get any further, tell me more about those dreams of yours.”

< previous part | masterlist >

taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996 @theilluminatidragonqueen @becca-oak @my-name-is-heartache @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @adamwarlockislife-blog @olasz-2003 @kyllium @chibinasuu

a/n: this is how i feel posting this last part. FINALLY. i was stressing hard with this one because i wanted it to feel authentic. also what is that, eleven dreams and some change for zoro to realize and confess how he felt? on another note, thank you so much for reading this and for being patient with me. love yall so much and i cant wait to write more for you soon!

three hundred sonnets (sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort 

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

i.

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii. 

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago. 

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.” 

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

v. 

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected. 

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you. 

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much. 

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch. 

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.” 

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself. 

I can’t tell if I like this or not. Took about 4 hours. Was technically a study of this. I’m very sleepy now so here you go 🤲🏻.

Post-timeskip fem usopp!!!

Everything suit him.

Buenísimo

Just Between Us

- ☆ - Sanji x Reader

- ☆ - !WARNING OF EXPLICIT CONTENT- 18+!

- ☆ - 12k

- ☆ - a/n: ♧ reposting this fic because tumblr nuked it from the tags. if you ever happened to find the original two-parter floating somewhere lmk :3 ♧

- ☆ - tags: ♧ reader is a member of the straw-hats ♧ light!voyeurism ♧ teasing ♧ fem!reader ♧ some subby!sanji and dom!reader but Sanji-kun is a true switch :3 ♧ panty sniffing ♧ begging ♧ male!masturbation ♧ cum play-ish ♧ leg fetish(?) ♧ body worship ♧ humping ♧ Sanji gets a nose bleed so there will be mentions of blood ♧ idk how else to tag this but reader teases sanji and he's a lil desperate cunt-slut ♧ never had a beta, we die like fools ♧

“Bye, guys! Stay safe!”

 Seated on Franky’s mechanical shoulders, Chopper waved back at you. His adorable laughter drifted past the treelines along with their farewells and energetic chaos fleeing towards another mini adventure. One you would not be a part of this time.

 The rest of the crew left you on board with the promise to return soon as they scoured for supplies on an inhabited island, but with the way Luffy sped away— and Nami shouted after him— you knew there wouldn’t be much hope reigning in the Captain’s excitement.

 You could trust Luffy to disrupt a plan and completely derail a simple situation. His shouts and the crew’s calls for him to slow down faded faster than the dust he left behind.

 The seconds ticked.

 You held your breath.

Standing alone, you listened intently for the silence to shatter the way you have become accustomed to— only to hear nothing but the squawk of birds resting on the mast. Undisturbed and unthreatened. Without so much as a song or laughter to burst, the ship rocked against the crystal waters of the shallow shore as you stood on the massive boat.

 The world quiet, the view serene.

 “Yes!” You let out an excited squeal, stomping your feet on the grassy deck in a silly dance of freedom and peace. “It’s finally quiet!” You shouted, laughing to yourself when no one answered you but the flaps of the wind against the furled sails above you.

 There were no shouts other than your own, no arguments or explosions— no disturbances of other people. Finally! After five weeks of non-stop excitement and open sea, you twirled, jumped and danced your butt off with no one to interrupt or insult your ridiculous display of glee because you were alone!

 “They all left, yes, yes!”

 You sang merrily, taking up space with wide arms and a beaming smile.

 You loved the straw hats. Travelling with them has been the most thrilling adventure of your life. They were amazing! Incredible, free-spirited— but sometimes, when the songs turn repetitive, and the merriment mutates into mayhem, you just want time to yourself.

 Having grown up alone, you had become accustomed to the stillness of an empty room. It was comforting, the calmness of your own company and the hyper-independence it developed. A stark contrast to the life you started with your new makeshift family, and after so long of bumping and sharing space with colourful, loud personalities, you were thankful for the chance to stretch your arms and lay on the soft grass.

 A moment to unwind, relax, and hear nothing but the waves below and revel in the tranquillity of solitude.

 “Now, iced tea on the deck or a long bubble bath?” You mused out loud, whistling while making your way to the kitchen, “or both?” You paused up the stairs.

 You sought to utilise all the time you had with maximum relaxation — with the way Luffy screamed over the odd-looking animal that stole his fruit; reading a book in the bathtub right now would guarantee no disturbances or uncomfortable attention for a while. No long lines or perverted interferences. You could take your time soaking in the warm water, and if they arrived by late dinner, they would find you already sated, happy and relaxed in the kitchen.

  Right, decisions finally made, you went back down the stairs.

 First, you needed your book back from Usopp, who swore he would finish and return yet never did, so you made your way to the boy’s quarters. They have lockers with their names, so it wouldn’t be too difficult unless he stashed it somewhere else, hopefully, the room wasn’t too messy— “Damn,” you heard someone hiss, a low voice that stopped you in your tracks, followed by inaudible murmurs that most definitely belonged to a man.

  Fuck. Just like that, your good mood died, snatching your solitude away before you had the chance to indulge in it fully.

 There was someone else here wrecking your fantasy and all the excitement of relaxing alone. No one ever said you would be guarding the ship with another person, yet the sounds of shuffling filled you with instant disappointment as you stood outside the room with the door slightly ajar.

 You eyed them carefully through the crack, peeking in to seize a glimpse of who was ruining your day of fun, only to catch a wisp of blonde hair and a streak of smoke before you heard him hum something to himself as he shrugged off his suit jacket, clearly undressing.

 Oh.

 Swallowing your nerves, you spied from the slim gap through the door— watching smooth, slender hands loosen and tug on the tie around a pale neck until it slipped out and neatly folded on the dresser in front of him. 

 You paused, disappointment somehow melting as something else fluttered through your body. Something hot. Something wicked and indecent thumped an ache in your core as you watched him unbutton his top collar.

 Then the second.

 Third.

 Unwittingly, your thoughts began to drift. Obliviously slipping into a heated dream envisioning how his strong hands would feel on your hips, your waist, gripping your supple skin when he presses you into his chest. The hot wisps of smoke and spice fogging your perception when he tilts his head down to yours, lips soft and slightly parted…

 Sanji rolled his neck, popping the tension that released a low hiss from him, startling you out of the fantasy you unknowingly faded into before a sudden realisation rooted you to the spot— you were watching a man undress. 

  You were watching Sanji undress.

 You only needed your book— a simple noise or shuffle would make your presence known, but you watched Sanji rake his fingers through his hair instead and toe off his shoes, standing in the middle of the room.

 You weren’t all that sure about the layout of their quarters, considering you were usually respectful— but you could tell Sanji was closer to the beds and had a medium-sized dresser beside it with a sink and mirror in the corner. The room was spacious, bigger than the girl’s quarters, including a sofa and table in a sunken spot nestled in the middle of their room. It wasn’t as disorganised as you pictured. A lot of colourful knacks matching different aesthetics, but they all had a place that belonged to them. A piece of individuality.

 You leaned back, hoping you went unnoticed by the man who often sang for your attention— and Nami’s and Robin’s, and any pretty girl he laid his eyes on. He was shameless, obscene. Yet there you stood, watching him unwind and strip ever so slowly exposing a physique you never expected from the ship’s cook.

 The wavering sense of guilt drifted from your consciousness, fading into a vague afterthought with every second you spent gazing into the rift through the door as if it were luring you into depravity.

 You wondered why you held your breath when his humming stopped.

 Say something before—

 His tired groan flushed warmth on your cheeks as you ducked behind the frame, shamefully peering into the room and watching him finish unbuttoning his blue striped shirt with deft fingers. Gingerly unclasping the buttons one by one until the shirt hung loosely on his shoulders. Over soft skin and hardened muscle.

 It was almost elegant how he shifted his cigarette with his teeth to avoid the tiny trickles of ashes from falling on his suit, then gently placed his black jacket on the bed with grace you couldn’t fathom as he slid the shirt off his broad shoulders in the same motion.

 Brightening the room, hitching your breath.

Sanji... he was beautiful.

 In a gentle sort of way, with poise, strength and a style all his own. In an amorous way that kept you fixated on his toned back. His broad shoulders, smooth chest, and the cut of his well-defined abs. In the sense that had you admiring the grace of his movements and all the years he must have spent perfecting them.

 You have watched him work while travelling with the strawhats these last few weeks. For no other reason than admiration, at the time, because you respected his power and the regency of his fighting style. But now, in the absence of stubborn rivalry and heart-eyed temptations— to glimpse the softness of his smile for yourself was like witnessing the shimmer of undisturbed water shining in the light of a spring day.

 Peaceful.

 A smile all his own, no snarky comment or perverted leer to taint the innocence or sincerity of his expression— you could only describe it as pretty.

 It had you clutching the hem of your sundress, crouching down slightly when his lithe body sauntered from your sight. Was he preparing to take a shower? Did they have their own private facilities? Or is he about to walk out and catch you and your hidden decadence for unassuming men?

 Your mind raced with questions, mixing with a perverted sort of fascination you dared not to admit, leering behind the door that hinged on the stillness of your presence.

 Sanji turned back to your frame, humming another tune that was all too familiar when music played merrily on the deck. He sounded at ease, his voice carrying through the room softer than the smoke that swirled around him.

 You bit back a smile, unintentionally slanting into the door, craving more than a slim peek into the room. deeper than a glance, especially when his hand inched towards his pants.

 His movements were effortless— if it were not for the click of the buckle and the loud snap of leather, you would have missed how he unclasped his belt with one hand and yanked it fluidly with one rough tug out of the loops.

 Fuck, that should not have been as attractive as it was, yet heat flushed anyway like it was coursing through your blood vessels, pumping your heart into a sensual beat out of its control. As much as you wanted to deny it, and turn your guilt away, it forced you to realise how difficult it was becoming to justify your presence— and even tougher to care about the intrusion of Sanji’s privacy.

 He would have done the same, right? Though Sanji would have been less conspicuous and ten times more audacious, it was still innocent for you. For now.

  “Where’s?” He mumbled before a soft aha came right after, a blue towel appearing in your field of vision. Hard muscles and a lean torso shifted through the gap, his back to you as he fiddled with something you could not see.

 Your gaze lingered, slinking down every tight ridge and exposed skin you were blessed to witness.

 There was a beauty to him you had not seen before, a tenderness to his features you only noticed now through the sliver of light. The colour on his cheeks, the tilt of his lips, the little curl of his eyebrow most people teased him for. There was something feminine about it— a spark of gentility he may have inherited from his mother, not that you knew much about that, just a softness he seemed to be blessed with.

 It was admirable how he took excellent care of his things too. Rolling his belt, setting aside his cufflinks, buffing his shoes, even hanging his shirt over the chair to be later washed and pressed— you know he did after Brook thanked him for kindly ironing his shirts as well.

 Perhaps there is more to him than silly sexual deviances. More than hazy eyes over full tits and round ass-cheeks. Sanji was diligent. Thoughtful. Tender.

 Whereas you were the deviant leaning in a little too intently now, your perverted gaze following the veins on his forearms as he stretched them above his head, emitting low groans when his back pulled tautly and the muscles constricted tight.

  You squirmed, the sounds of his groans and sighs making you clench your thighs as you watched him stretch, then admired himself in the mirror, rubbing his chin over the dark hairs you wished he wasn’t thinking of shaving. You liked the facial hair— almost as much as his ass when he leaned forward to splash some water on his face. 

 “Wait..” you murmured out loud without thinking. When did he snuff the cigarette?

 Shame filled you instantly. Sanji’s ass distracted you for too long because now he was wiping his face with a clean blue towel, droplets of water rolling down his sturdy neck before they were selfishly wiped away just when you began imagining licking it off his skin.

 You huffed, your feet planted to the floorboards, unable to speak louder than a tortured gasp while your thighs cinched to ease an unpleasant ache when he ran his hand through his hair again, with pretty blonde strands falling wet over his face. Over sweet eyes and high cheekbones.

 It was exhilarating, intrusive, and extremely impolite, yet you could not turn away or apologise for the violation, too mesmerised by the physique usually clad in lavish suits. Only witnessing a faint glimmer of the man you had never known before— lurking behind the shadow of the door frame that separated you from him and spared him from your wandering stare.

 There was a clink and a small flame before the smell of smoke wafted through the door once again. A thick cloud of vapour swirled around Sanji as he tilted his head back, eyes closed and basking in the serenity of the surrounding silence. Much like you wanted to before you became lustfully distracted, spoiling his privacy. Invading his space. That guilt you previously estranged yourself from inched back into your consciousness as Sanji sighed softly, looking every bit of the peace you intended for yourself earlier. 

 Your teeth latched on your bottom lip, nervousness churning, desire twisting into a sick delusion— your prying had to end. Even Sanji deserved the politeness of privacy.

 So, you turned to leave, determined to ignore all you had seen, just for the floorboards to creak under your weight when your feet shuffled a little too loudly.

 Your body stilled, you felt your pulse explode, and excuses and apologies were ready to spill from your trembling lips as you whipped your head back to the door— only to freeze when you caught him unbuttoning his pants.

 He stood there, shirtless, hair damp and dark pants low on his hips as the zipper rang louder than the blood rushing in your head.

 A smothered gasp escaped behind your hand, an inaudible “Oh god,” choking out beneath the pleasured grunts you heard through the wall. Sweat beaded down your temple, somehow feeling hot and sticky despite the chilling wind that ruffled your hair, tickling the flushed skin of your chest as your breathing quickened.

 He was... touching himself— idly, lazily, using the heel of his palm to rub on his crotch as it steadily grew into a heavy bulge pressing into the teeth of the zipper.

 “Fuck... ”

 You squeaked, thankfully no louder than his own low grunt.

 His teeth peaked through his smile, chuckling at something past your sight. His smile was sultry, his laugh airy. Thank God, no one could ever see the creeping blush up your neck over Sanji. Or feel the stickiness that marred your panties over the sight of his erection lewdly shaped beneath the fabric of his dark pants. The man who needed blood transfusions whenever he saw a pretty girl.

 You would have felt humiliated if you weren’t so distracted. And breathless, lightheaded, and not to mention wet.

 His ridiculousness was why you never noticed these things before, like the slenderness of his long fingers, or how his sharp jaw clenched to keep the cigarette in place— or the elegance of his strides across the room to place his shoes in the locker and hang his suit jacket before stepping into the sunken sofa.

 A new light, a new Sanji to you— a voyeuristic secret you could never confess even through the stuttered breaths of your own arousal.

  Shit, shit, shit!

 He was right there, facing you— yet unaware of the glowering eyes and thundering pulse a few feet away from him. At least, that’s what you hoped as you watched him throw his head back over the couch and rub the back of his neck tiredly— teasing you with a view of his sculptured body and the heavy tent straining against the zip of his pants.

 Fuck… he was a vision. Perhaps if he had a fraction of this elegance towards women, he would have them falling at his feet, begging for his attention— panting his name— raking your nails down his smooth chest.

 Caressing him the way your fingers unconsciously mimicked on the door as you pressed yourself against it, tits hot and heavily squished into redwood, desperate for cool relief on your flushed skin while straining to see past the hem of his pants. He was so close, yet out of reach, as you watched his hand run down his neck, gliding it on his chest sensually before grasping the chubb that had him sighing lowly into his own touch.

 “Just a little,” he groaned, rubbing on his cock lazily, as if he was convincing himself to indulge in his own pleasure, “before they come back.”

 Oh god, oh god.

 You weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions when every grumble and low hum of his vibrated straight between your thighs. Pooling slick in your panties that had you chewing on your bottom lip to sanctify some sanity when heated arousal rushed through your body.

 “We have time,” he murmured, shifting in his seat to tug down his pants a little more, dark blonde tufts of hair peeking through, giving himself room to breathe with his underwear sliding just beneath it. His chubb was fat and still hidden, but you could see the tip twitch with every squeeze of his abdomen, teasing himself with the friction rubbing upon his dick. “uhh, yea, please.” He moaned a sweet sound seeped in desperation, his eyes closed and hips jerking, playing his fantasy out loud, his hands clenched by his sides. “Touch me, please, I’ll be good”, he whispered, smiling as he did, a flush colouring his cheeks. “Jus’ for you, yea? All you. Pretty girl, make me so hard.” He choked the last word, taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a steady breath of air before clenching it back in his teeth.

  You were a mess.

 You had to stop, turn away— breathe.

 Sanji was begging, whining to be touched as he bucked his hips, using his abs to move his cock in his pants. Edging himself in a fantasy you only hoped to be a part of— but you could never dare to interfere. Your chest heaved, nipples taut and stroking against the door, gripping the handle so it stayed put even as your legs shook from the pressure to keep you upright.

 Leave, you had to leave.

 Move your feet, release the grip on the door and shift your weight to the side.

 You manually counted your breaths, ripping your gaze from Sanji’s pleading stare.

 Leave, just leave.

 “Don't leave,” he whined, sitting upright. “at least let me watch you too, it’s only fair.”

  It was as if a wave of cold, salty, ocean water dunked on you from the way you shrieked at the sound of your own name.

 The door creaked, opening wide, betraying you by exposing the statue you had become and on the brink of collapsing from shame or even darting from his sights if you could have managed to work your knees.

 Though his eyes were free from shock or disgust, he looked almost excited. Eager. The cigarette clenched in his wide grin; hair pushed back— you could see how his eyes glowed.

 You gaped back at him, shock contorting into a dry wheeze you couldn’t control while his smile curled into a light chuckle, amused by your flustered expression.

 “Don’t leave,” he repeated, the invitation sounding almost kind coming from his lips, a charming smile hidden behind an obscene request while tugging on his pants when his hard cock pressed too tightly in its confines. “Watch me, please.”

 Sanji asked you not to leave.

 Sanji said your name while asking you not to leave— not to leave watching him masturbate.

 Your breath fell past your lips, frozen just outside the bedroom door, your blood still humming through your body. You were stuck. Mortified. No matter how many times you rephrased or repeated it in your head, you could not move or answer him in anything but a squeak. “Why?”

 “Why not?” He countered, striding towards you, bulge still prominent. “You’ve been watching me the whole time. Why stop now?”

  “No! I-I didn’t mean to—”

 He nodded teasingly, “you liked it.” Sanji snickered when you snapped your mouth shut, your denial ruined by the searing shame choking your words as he stalked closer. “I liked it too,” he said lowly, “made me so hard.”

 “I wasn’t—” you huffed, desperate to explain yourself despite the way your gaze flickered down at his chest with every pathetic stammer. “I just wanted- and then you- it’s only—”

 Sanji laughed, waving his hand dismissively with his cigarette pinched between his fingers, twirling a ring of smoke between you. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. No harm in a little peeking,” his teeth flashed prettily, excitement shining at your bashful glances towards his shapely crotch. “If you want, maybe you can make it up to me. I’d hate to tell the rest of the crew what you did.”

 “How?” You hated how timid you sounded, so you cleared your throat and stood straighter, only taking a small step back when he got closer, heart thundering and not at all bothered by his proximity. “It’s not like I’d let you watch me. I know what you’re like.”

 “Do you?”

 “Y-yes.”

 His curly brow quirked up, amusement glossing his tone, “You don’t sound so sure, dearie.”

 “I know you’ll just brag about me looking at you as if I’m some horny perv lurking around the boy’s room—”

 “But you are,” he interjected, taking a slow drag of smoke and blowing it downwind. “I wasn’t the one caught lurking—”

 “This time!” You bristled from the accusation, digging an accusatory finger at his firm, muscled chest, lingering a second too long before snapping. “You’re the one always butting in when the girls bathe. You’re the one trying to sneak a glance when we change! You’re the rude one!” You shouted, guilt clawing in your chest when all he did was smile. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, okay? But don’t make me out to be a pervert like you.”

 Sanji rubbed his chest sadly, palming the exact spot you touched as if he were cherishing the contact with his big hand sprawled on his own skin. “Aw, darlin’,” he cooed with a cute pout on his lips, “do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you shrieked a little too quickly, “I-I mean, yes! When you—”

 “When I undress?”

“God!—”

 “When I rub my cock?”

 Your cheeks burned, a strangled whine slipping before you could clamp your teeth on your bottom lip, “That’s not! You—”

 “I, what?” he purred, tilting his head down again, the simmering scent of smoke tickling your lips, “you can’t even look at me in the eye, but you had no trouble watching me stroke my cock to you. Did watching me make you wet, darlin’?”

 The lie spilled in an undignified splutter, the word no holding too many syllables when you tried to say it.

 His laughter chimed in your ears, a vibrant sound that brightened his face, and though he was laughing at you, a part of you softened from the sight. Mesmerised by it.

 Pretty. Shimmering waters.

 Somehow, it helped you release a steady breath, perhaps for the first time since you discovered him. Putting you at ease and in control.

 Taking another step back, it was easier to blurt out your next half-lie. “I wasn’t watching you, I came for something.”

  “Is there any chance that thing being me?”

“There is a better chance I slap you if you don’t back the fuck up.”

  “Promise?” Sanji chuckled, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks. He invaded your space again, smoke and soap stroking your senses while his hands stayed respectfully by his sides. “Wow, dirty words sound so pretty when you say it.” He tilted his chin, inching closer, lips inviting, “Say fuck again.”

 In your head, you slapped him. You pushed past his large, dominating frame, and went on your way to enjoy the bath you had planned and forget all that you have seen.

 In reality? In the sensuous bubble of arousal he encased you in— the curse tickled his lips in a low murmur. Like a pre-emptive kiss he savoured by swiping his tongue on his bottom lip just so he could taste the words you teased as an insult.

 “Again,” he pleaded, slanting you into the wooden railing. Gripping the beam. Almost chest to chest. Almost touching.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “you.”

 “Please…again..”

“Sanji—”

 “mmhh..”

“—fuck… you.”

 “Shit.” his laugh strained into a desperate husk.

 You could almost taste it. And you wanted to, to taste him that is, because you could tell he was cracking. In a singular moment, you turned the tides on him, taking the upper hand and the dominance he flexed exposing you. And like a switch, Sanji was pleading— his adams apple bobbed, lips parted, eyes blown. Not anything like the charm he exuded earlier. He sounded helpless. Distraught. Struggling against the invisible line you still held between you, yet honouring the boundary you have placed because he was still a gentleman.

 You admired that.

 Part of you— the wretched, drunk on lust part you shoved in a cage most nights to escape her fantasies— wished for him to push the waters and break the barrier. To feel the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. His hands, his lips.

 His eyes shined instead. Hooded and sparkling a desire you mimicked with your slow breaths.

 The birds squawked above, and Sanji finally found his voice.

“Can I masturbate to you?”

 “Huh?”

“You’re so pretty, so tempting,” he said. Flexing his grip on the beam as if it were a lifeline. “I loved it when you were watching me. If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. I won’t push you. But please, watch me. And I promise it will be just between us, okay?”

 You squirmed. The words of rejection faded faster than they formed while you tried not to shrink under his pleading stare. You could feel your back pressed against the rail, digging into your skin as Sanji stood tall, shirtless and strong— caging you with his hand gripping the wooden beam right by your hip. Your bodies close, breaths hot and almost in sync, yours just a little shakier as you contemplated his invitation.

 To watch him. Openly.

 Why was it so daunting with his permission? With his lust blown eyes homed in on yours. Longing for something more than your stuttered breath to brush his skin.

 Even in the open air, all you could feel was the heat raying from his bare chest and the twinge of smoke fanning around you. His arousal straining yet inches away from contact with your thigh he keeps achingly out of reach. It was just him, you, and the birds sitting on the mast, but it felt like you were locked in a steel cage with hundreds of spectators waiting on your next move.

 You couldn’t hear them above the raging waves of your own thoughts. However, it was hard to stay objective when the currents that pulsed in your blood rushed between your thighs, dousing you with a tender ache that was becoming harder to ignore.

 When you took too long to respond, his smile faded. “I’ll leave you be—”

 “Sit back down,” you commanded, pushing on his chest and smiling when he shuddered beneath your palm.

 Sanji grinned. He took your hand, your name spoken softer than any ballad as he whispered it into your skin and placed a kiss to accompany the warmth it spread. “Yes, my lady.”

 In the depths of his eyes, you fell. The world blackened and you plunged deep into his domain. Into his desires.

 Tethered only by the delicate hold he kept of your hand, you stepped into the room behind him, keeping your head up despite the nervousness that swirled within.

 The anonymity you deluded yourself into believing snapped when the door closed behind you. Sanji was freakishly deceptive. Of course, he knew. Of course, he was teasing you. But the genuine plea that shined in his eyes made it impossible to walk away.

 He looked so cute. So masculine and vulnerable at the same time. You wanted to see more of him it drove you right into the lustful fog that blanketed the space in between.

 When he released your hand, you found yourself missing the contact of his large palm clasped in yours.

 Sanji took his place back on the sofa, thighs spread, and lips parted in breathless excitement. But before anything else happened, he snuffed his bud in the ashtray in front of him. “You can walk away any time you want, sweetheart. No hard feelings or awkwardness, okay?”

 Your shoulders visibly relaxed, unaware they were ever tense, but it made you smile anyway. Grateful for the reminder and the familiarity of his gentlemanly deference.

 “I know,” you give him a genuine smile, “just between us, yeah?”

“Of course, darlin’.” His smile mirrored yours like the glimmering waters they are modelled after. Putting you at ease and in control once again when he affirms; “Just between us.”

 With a deep breath— you cooled your expression, while his eyes shined as an air of apathy befell around you.

 There was no turning back from this, and as you stood there, shielded from the cooling wind and the anchoring weight of the door you once hid behind, you realised that you truly didn’t want to.

 You were inside.

 You had his attention. You could watch him— Sanji, undress, and pleasure himself without anything obstructing your view or fixate on the shame twisting in your gut this time because he invited you in. Led you by the hand while you pretended the contact didn’t ignite anything.

 That the warmth of his hand clasped in yours didn’t buckle your knees when you stepped over the threshold. Or that you could still feel the brush of his lips on your fingers.

 You could continue pretending none of it mattered because this was just a game, and you were good at playing games. You could play this one with him too.

 “Sit back,” you ordered after finally finding your voice, “—and show me what you were doing.”

 “Fuck,” his hands fumbled.

 His excitement forced you to chew on your bottom lip to surpass a snicker. It was endearing, but you held onto your indifference like a vice. You were looking forward to seeing him unravel.

 “Keep—” he swallowed thickly. “Keep talking to me like that.”

“Like what?” you watched him palm his cock through his pants again, his erection growing harder with the new stimulation beneath his hand. “Tell you how I like to watch pretty boys touch themselves?”

 “uhh-ha,” Sanji choked softly. “You think I’m pretty?”

 You crossed your arms, smirking when his attention locked on to the swell of your breasts curving over the top of the dress, flashing delectable skin that had him swiping his tongue hungrily. “I think you’re a little pathetic,” you shrugged, “and predictable.”

 His lip tilted. “I guess I just can’t help myself.”

“Hmm, well, you can have a little more decorum, though. Be a little less obvious too.”

 He chuckled airily. “Not when I’m stroking my cock to you, darlin.”

 Sanji shifted slightly, dragging his pants down lower and exposing more of the dark blonde trail that led past his waistband. Taunting you with a flash of skin you couldn’t turn away from. “Want to see how hard just looking at you makes me?”

 A smile peeked through despite your best efforts. “I can see well enough from here.”

 “That’s not what it looked like before,” he teased, cupping his balls through the fabric. “I thought you might fall through the door from how far you leaned in trying to sneak a peek.”

 “I wasn’t—”

“I thought we were passed the bashful lies, sweetheart?”

 You peered down at him through your lashes, ignoring the flush creeping up your neck from his sultry gaze.

 Neither of you said another word for a minute as the room filled with Sanji’s breathy sighs. He was using his abs again, clenching them and bucking his hips to rub his cock against his pants. The friction making him grip the sofa. His lips part.

 Your thighs cinched watching his reddened tip slip through when his pants slid further down. He looked wrecked already. Pearly dribbles of pre-cum smeared over his abs, trickling over the toned lines and ridges with every jerk of his hips, adding a lewd sheen to his skin as the rise and fall of his chest quickened.

 Just standing there stumbled whines from his throat, you wondered about the sort of sounds he would make into your neck.

 “Sanji”. His gaze snapped up. “Use your thumb for me,” you said softly. “Rub on your slit, I want to see your tip get sensitive.”

 “Sh-it, like this?”

“Good boy.”

 He moaned.

“Oh,” you grinned. “You like that, huh?”

 Sanji nodded timidly, his blush darkening when his control slipped. He didn’t mean to confess such a kink, but the way you purred the praise sent shockwaves up his spine. Made his cock twitch, hand tremble.

 “I like how you talk to me,” he confessed lowly. “Your voice, how it sounds when you say my name. How you lower your tone, or your breath catches when I groan— fuck. It drives me crazy.”

 You hummed playfully, nibbling on your bottom lip when he canted his hips into his hand rhythmically. Now completely free from the confines of his slacks, his cock stayed caged in his fist, his shaft long and slender throbbing with a hue that matched his cheeks as pre-cum slicked loudly, coating his fingers in its sticky mixture while you stood there ignoring the wetness soaking your own panties.

 “You look desperate already, Sanji-kun.” You teased lightly, hiding your hands behind your back so he couldn’t see you dig your nails into your palms. “Do you like being watched that much? I can see you leaking, your cock is so wet, and we’ve just started. Are you going to cum so soon? That’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”

 “I can’t help it,” he groaned, damp blond strands falling over high cheekbones. “It’s like your eyes set me on fire. Igniting everything that sits under my skin, burning me through, it feels so good, it almost hurts. Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t imagine what would happen if you touched me. Your hands on my chest, your sweet lips on my neck. If you so much as leaned into me, letting me breathe in your scent, uhh-shit- I’m ashamed to admit I might cum untouched.” His throat constricted, seizing his words into a tortured rasp. “Darlin’, for my sake, for my sanity, you have to stay back and let me just watch. Let me look at you and imagine all the ways you’d set me alight with just a kiss.”

“Would you let me?” you asked breathlessly. “Kiss you, I mean.”

 “Oh, in a heartbeat.”

“Even if you’d gush blood and pass out?” you couldn’t help the giggle.

 “Even if it were my last,” Sanji groaned desperately. “To kiss you would be the end of me, and I would pray they’d bring me back so I can do it again.”

 Your chest tightened hearing the affection hidden beneath his moans.

 There were deep crescent shapes in your palms now, the skin reddened and pinched from your efforts to maintain even an ounce of control, but the sting paled in comparison to the drum of your heartbeat slamming against your ribs. Rattling the bars of your sanity the longer you stood in his presence.

 Sanji looked at you as if— as if he would never see the light again.

 With awe, longing, and something close to anguish when the light shines further away from him. As something beyond his reach yet to be cherished and marvelled at all the same. To be revered. Desired. Loved but never possessed because it wasn’t his place to assert his will, but to bask in the warmth the light spread.

 It was intoxicating, and he was unravelling faster than you anticipated.

 You could tell from how he thumbed the thin veins forking along his length, how pre-cum spilled over his fingers, pooling at the base of his cock and how his chest heaved that he was chasing a fast-approaching release that had him stuttering your name past his lips— involuntarily rising heat all the way to the tips of your ears.

 Sanji was too erratic. Too frenetic.

 Moaning and thrusting and rolling his wrist over and over his shaft so fast, it was a wonder he remained conscious. He looked unbalanced. A sort of frantic that reminded you of all the times he over-excited himself and exploded into a fit leaving him comatose and bloodied.

 You had to slow him down, to set the pace for now only to have him moan in a melody of salacious cries later on, and then bend him into a rhythm only your pulse can match.

 At your mercy, your control.

 In a way that wouldn’t end with the rest of the crew returning to find Sanji dead on the floor seeped in his own cum and blood. This is exactly how this was heading if you let him continue down this path.

 Whining incessantly while fucking his tight fist in faster strokes, his teary gaze seared straight into your core, almost certain you could feel the warmth of his touch from across the room as you fought the urge to squirm and find the power to bark:

  “Stop.”

 The command shot straight through him. Snapping him at attention like a stinging whip on his back.

 His jaw ticked. Veins pulsed.

 Sanji’s rigid composure would have been comical if his erection hadn’t slapped against his stomach. Angry red and swollen with need, it looked almost painful, especially with the way his brows twisted miserably as he panted heavily glowing with sweat and desperation.

 “Breathe.”

 When he inhaled a wheezing, sharp breath— you shook your head, instructing him to go slower. Calmer. Until his shoulders laxed and his throat swallowed a decent gulp. “Good boy, just breathe for me.”

 Sanji nodded meekly, even managing a smile as he clenched and unclenched his hands on his knees, wiping off the gooey, sordid evidence of his arousal in quiet shame.

 You observed him critically, assessing his mental and physical state and deeming him a little untethered. As if he were floating, glassy-eyed and adrift in his own mind until enough deep breaths grounded him back to your focus. You watched him come to grips with things— his attention shifting to his pants bunched at his thighs, to his cock standing full mast, to the hot air suffocating the room.

 Sanji sighed wistfully, threading his trembling hand through his sweaty bangs and out of his face, a deep blush colouring his cheeks.

“Feeling better?” you asked gently. “I just can’t have you passing out on me before things really get started.”

 It took him a moment to find his voice again. His throat was dry despite the wetness clinging to his skin.

 “Sorry. I’m just— I’m so hard,” he chuckled weakly. “Can’t, uhh— I can’t imagine what you might think of me right now. How ridiculous and pathetic I might look being so— so enamoured by you.”

 You shrugged to lighten the mood. “I always assumed you were a two-minute man, but I won’t tell anyone.”

 The laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes as he flexed his fists, actively avoiding the erection pulsing against his stomach, or the truth of his blinding lust and the dizzying spell it held over him.

 “I thought I could— I thought I had more control, like when we were on the deck.” Sanji said sullenly, vaguely aware of the festering insecurities. “It was exciting being the one to tease you, to look down at a beautiful woman like you and make her flustered. Being so close to you was- it was so hot, electric even— but having you watch me right now in that commanding tone is ten times more intense. It’s addicting— it’s also humiliating and thrilling all at once. I feel so contorted and … I’m embarrassed to admit how far I’m willing to let you break me”. He confessed shyly.

 “Sanji…”

 “But that somehow turns me on even more. It’s just… you’re so beautiful”. Sanji whispered gravelly, “It’s just not fair what that does to me.”

 “It’s okay,” you released your own shaky inhibitions with a slow exhale and offered a tilted smile, warmth tickling your cheeks upon his conviction. “I like seeing you this way. It was fun on the deck, how dominating you were teasing me. But right now, your eyes shine and it’s really flattering.” You smirked playfully, “Pretty boys like you look best when they’re sweaty and desperate.”

 Sanji’s blush was much more obvious than yours, his fair complexion making every inner thought radiate through his skin, but he stayed quiet for a few seconds, his smile strained.

 “Be honest with me. If-if I hadn’t said anything, would you have walked away without a word afterwards?”

 You thought about it for a moment, stunning him with your impassive gaze towards his raw vulnerability.

 There was a touch of wistfulness in it— in the tenderness of his question making it clear that your answer would mean more to him than simply feeding his ego— he needed to feel desirable, worthy— so with a wicked idea, you took those steps forward to bridge the gap between you and relished when his chest hitched visibly as you stood planted between his open thighs.

 You pulled him back from the edge, only so you could push him down yourself.

 You were so close he could reach out and touch you now if he wanted, his leg could press against yours. His arm could brush your thigh and call it an accident, or he could even brazenly drag you into his lap to finally feel relief on his aching cock. It wouldn’t even take much strength on his part, to grab you by the arm and yank you into his awaiting heat. Your body warm and pressed against his. Flushed and tight.

 But as you peered down at him— his lashes wet, face burning, pre cum glistening. Hands stilted on his knees as he inhaled your scent so deep it filled his chest— you know Sanji would never cross that line, not without permission.

 You felt powerful in that fact. In the knowledge that you could break a man as powerful as him with a caress, a word. A kiss.

 “Yes. I would have walked away,” you confessed firmly. When his expression fell, you bent down at the waist, the words brushing on his lips. “But I would have paid extra close attention to you.”

 His mouth fell open, your name almost coherent in the pitiful whimper that escaped disguised as a breath. Yet he still managed to smile despite the blood rushing to his head. “Sweet God, you’re cruel.”

“And you’re shaking.”

 He was.

 Already unsteady and trembling to keep himself upright. To stay conscious and not let his vision completely glaze over as white spots danced across your face, sparkling you in a tantalising light he fought to keep in his sights even if it muffled his other senses when your scent enveloped him too. Erotically feminine and something so distinctly you his pulse ticked beneath his jaw.

 “More, please..”

“mhmm— you have to open your eyes and look at me, Sanji-kun. I might get sad and walk away if you don’t.”

When he finally opened them, you were blessed by the sight of shimmering tears glossing wide, love filled pupils.

 “y’know…” you sighed, fighting the warmth spreading between your thighs, “watching you made me realise something.”

 “What?”

 “That there are layers to you, and I liked discovering them.” The noise he made resembled a strangled animal when you brushed your thumb over his soft cheek. “Your patience, tenderness, diligence, I never paid it any special attention until today. How you take care of your things, how gentle your hands are— I never thought you would be so…” you swiped your tongue upon his bottom lip. “Beautiful.”

 “Fuck..” his eyes rolled. A full body shudder raked down his back this time, prickling every fibre etched in his being and ultimately triggering sensitive blood vessels in his nose to pop suddenly as spurts of cum pre-emptively dribbled out of his tip.

 You giggled. “Are you okay, Sanji-kun?”

you watched him shake his head inaudibly, hips humping the air for much needed relief as the blood trickled down his nose in slow drips. Almost mimicking how his cock drooled obscenely.

 He wouldn’t last much longer like this. Every muscle, nerve and vein burned to keep himself tethered to the seat. “More, I beg you. T-talk to me more, ‘m so close..”

 His plea sounded hoarse even to his own ears, but it made you smile all the same.

 “I think,” you trailed off, flickering your eyes to his lips, then wiping off the blood gently. “I would have paid attention to your laugh.”

 That sobered him a little bit, the confusion furrowed his brows.

 “You looked at ease, even though you were teasing me. I liked hearing you hum, chuckle, seeing you smile. You looked relaxed. There was something attractive about it, I can’t quite explain how much I enjoyed seeing that, even before you unzipped your pants. I think I was a little enamoured by you.”

 His expression glowed. “R-really?”

 You nodded earnestly. “You’re beautiful, Sanji. That’s why I was watching you, why I had to walk away cause it made me feel guilty to see you so … unguarded.”

 “I—”

“Do me a favour,” you cupped his jaw with a warm palm, “don’t pass out.”

 Before he could reply, Sanji tasted heaven.

 It was the slightest touch on his lips, barely a kiss, hardly a brushstroke, but it was enough to hear something akin to an angel’s song as he was bathed in a white light.

 Or …

 His eyes rolled so far back, his vision became discoloured, and the sound he heard was a high-pitch whine that tore through his own throat and reverberated in the room.

“On your knees.”

 Sanji collapsed, gasping and quaking on his hands and knees as if he’d been fighting for his life. Which, in a way, he really was. Fighting to keep some blood in his system that hadn’t already poured into his cock or down his nose when the heat coiling in his belly burned that much hotter from your kiss. Scorching him, blistering the goosebumps that prickled along his flesh making him hypersensitive and numb all at once— numb to the sounds outside this room, hypersensitive to your every move. And if anyone were to find him like this— no, he didn’t care. You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from, even if it ripped him apart, and he’d be damned if anyone came to ruin it now.

 Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of you, of your sweet gloss and plump lips and dizzying scent— but when he reached to fist his cock to the memory of you pressed against him— Sanji couldn’t stop himself from keening loudly when your foot pushed his hand away.

 “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, cutie’.”

 “What can I do?” Sanji quivered up at you pleadingly. “I’ll do anything, please. Oh please, please tell me what to do for you, darlin’.”

 “Take off my shoes.”

 You lifted your right leg for him, offering up your foot clad in the strappy sandal and watched him inhale sharply through his nose.

 “I—” his adams apple bobbed as he sat back on his heels, “I can touch you?”

 This was a test, a prank. You were only playing with him. the kiss was enough to kill him, and your smile was too sinful to be sincere, but he prayed, nonetheless. Pleaded and hoped and then choked on his own spit when you nodded firmly.

 “Yes, but only my legs. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you something better.”

 Sanji nodded heartily, murmuring his thanks and gratitude for the opportunity presented to him, his voice carrying a thick layer of emotion he didn’t have the sense to evaluate for this blessing. Only knowing the relief he felt when your bare skin pressed against his, whispering the praises into the cleft of your ankle— his lips brushed a chaste kiss, a sweet touch that could only be seeped with devotion.

 You wouldn’t have heard it at all if it weren’t breathed into your skin, ardently sincere like the last prayer whispered by the helpless. So, in an act of mercy, you brushed his hair back and tilted his head up towards you, holding him delicately as if he’d shatter by your hands. Which you were fully capable of doing— but you presented him the tenderness of your smile instead, verbalising your consent and letting it flow soothingly between you.

 He took a few seconds to stabilise himself, though even with your permission, Sanji’s touch felt shaky against your skin as if he was unsure about your words or his own strength to maintain consciousness, but he did anyway. Willed himself with the strength to harden his spine and indulge in his deepest desires. Just this once, while you still graced him with it.

 His hands were warm, soft, and gentle. Everything like the man they belonged to as Sanji stroked your leg sensually, starting from your knee all the way down to your ankle. His long fingers pressing and squeezing the supple skin beneath his palms, curving along your plump flesh pulling quiet sighs you didn’t bother to hide that he drank in greedily, relishing in your pleasure as if it was pierced straight into his vein.

 “y’so beautiful,” Sanji groaned into your leg. “I can’t believe—” he shook his head, ridding himself of the doubt that plagued him before dragging his lips along your calf as his fingers fiddled with the strap that wrapped around you. Achingly slow and deliberately unhurried. “You’re so soft, it’s incredible. Even your legs are gorgeous.” he spoke as if thorns were scraping his throat, every word coming out in a low rasp filled with need. “Every part of you sets me on edge,” he continued, his kisses following where the straps once curled, “— as if I’m holding on by my fingertips, and the only thing that keeps me from breaking— from plummeting and colliding into the ground is you.” He slipped your shoe off and placed it gently to the side, your foot now bare, then moved on to the other leg and gave it the exact same treatment. “But… its also like you’re waiting for me at the bottom, ready to unearth me and giggle as you dust off the dirt from my shattered bones.”

 You feel his kiss on your ankle again, a breathy sigh tickling your flesh as you swallowed your nerves. “What if I am? I like you beneath me.”

 “I don’t mind,” he replied easily. He held you up carefully, his grip firm yet tender as he kneaded the taut muscle, every caress and gentle stroke pooling desire deep in your core. “If it were anyone else, I would have done what I usually do by making a fool of myself as soon as the rest of the crew left.” The heat of his stare was almost unnerving. “But it was you, and I never felt more compelled to fall.”

 Fuck.

 You lost your resolve, and your expression softened with a laugh that fluttered out like the butterflies tickling your chest. “You shouldn’t look so attractive with your cock so wet, Sanji-kun. It’s unfair, and hard to remain impassive when you look so beautiful desperate for me.”

 “I’m sorry, darlin’.” He laid his cheek against your leg, exhaustion weighing him. “We can stop”, he offered sincerely. This momentary pause gave him the clarity he needed, the fog inhibiting his senses cleared enough to think. Though his cock still ached, there was a layer of calm settling too. Your comfort important to him above all else. “You’ve done more than enough for me,” Sanji pressed another kiss to your knee, your shoe accompanying its twin on the floor, “more than I could have hoped for already. It won’t take much for me to finish on my own. You were wonderful, darlin'.”

 “You would stop, just like that?”

 “Of course,” Sanji affirmed candidly, his eyes kind. “Like I said, I would do anything for you. My pleasure is secondary.”

The words hung in the air, but your plan was still in motion.

 “Tell me, then. What would happen if I touched right…here.”

“Ahh-uhh!”

 “Does it hurt?” you cooed sickeningly sweet. “hmm, from your expression it looks like you’re enjoying it a little too much.”

 He bobbed his head frantically, blonde hair flailing with the movement, your devious plan wrecking him immediately. “Ye-es, in the-uhh best way, angel. Fu-uuck, I-I can’t believe you’re tou-ching me like this.”

 “Yeah? y’like it that much?” you laughed airily. “Your balls feel soft on my foot, all rounded and heavy.” Lifting your leg up higher, you rubbed your leg on his length, sliding it up and down, skin to skin, until those salacious moans spilt from his mouth in loud cries. “wow, it’s’warm and wet from all the pre you were leaking earlier, too. How gross.”

 “Oh-oh, god, pl-ease, sweet darlin’. Fuck-ngh!”

 You hummed delightedly, watching his cheeks blossom into another sweet blush, his eyes glazing over immediately as Sanji shuddered and keened beneath you with the familiar scent of desperation clouding the room in a thicker layer. A potent, charged atmosphere that had you panting as you watched Sanji unravel once again in the short time you had him under your command— your plan a success.

 “You’re dripping all over again.” you teased with another slow drag of your foot, his balls resting on top while his shaft twitched upon your shin. “Look at how your pretty cock leaks! All red and cute! So much cum, I’m surprised you haven’t squirted.”

  “ohh-ahh, sw-sweetheart don’t be me-eean!”

 “I’m not!” you insisted through unfiltered giggles. “Look at you, humping my leg! Gettin’ yourself all worked up from just touching me, you’re so cute, Sanji-kun.” Your laughter seized as you clicked your tongue, faux disgust colouring your tone as you rolled your foot over his long shaft, collecting the stringy wetness that drooled from his tip on your toes. “Tsk, your cock is makin’ a dirty mess all over my leg, though. Could you be anymore pathetic?”

 “’m so’rry,” he squirmed. “Ca-an I clean it uhh-up?”

  You leered down at him, “only if you use your mouth, pretty.”

 Sanji licked long strokes along your leg, collecting the sticky essence that spit from his tip the harder he rolled his hips. Swallowing his own dirty arousal while fervently grinding his cock along the curve of your leg with no sense or rhythm, only following the lust you stoked within him, stumbling moans, hitching his whines. Begging and squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, but you saw them anyway.

 You saw everything. How his chest concaved with every breath he took, how his balls pulled tight on your foot, how deeply and utterly he was at your mercy.

 It filled you with pride. Along with a dark sense of satisfaction you couldn’t quite place to have Black-leg Sanji— bounty over a billion berries, the left wing of the future king of the pirates— whinging and coating your skin with his arousal.

 And you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that could possibly kill him, but you wanted to push the boundaries.

  See how far you could bend him before he snapped.

 “You can’t cum yet,” you sang cheerily, weaving your fingers through his hair again. “You have to be good for me, okay?”

 “Fuu-uk, ‘m tryin’!” Sanji cried out, his last threads of control almost slipping from his grasp, stitch by stitch, seam by seam, but he gripped them tighter in his fists, and fiercely blinked away the fog misting his vision just to have the chance to gaze upon your smile for a little while longer. “I wo-on’t, jus’ for you. Cause you-you asked.”

 “Good boy. Now, tell me you like it.” you gave his hair a firm tug, directing focus to his bucking hips. “Tell me how much your cock aches, how hard it is, how much you love touching me.”

 Sanji shuddered, another frantic nod dizzying his vision as he jerked his hips harder. “I do! So-so much”, he hiccupped. “I lo- ohhh, uhh, yes!— I love you touch-in’ me. Teasin’ me, makin’ a mess of me-eee— ahh, shit! Tou-uch me, please, fuck! Please, I love it— love your eyes, your voice, your touch. I’ll die, ohh, god-oh god, lemme jus’ die like this, it’s oka-ay if it’s you. For you, all you, fuck-fuck!”

 “I think you deserve your reward now, Sanji-kun.”

 Sanji snapped his head up, his hips stilting. “This-this isn’t the reward?” how could it not be? He was touching you, kissing your body, smearing his cock all over your pretty leg. What could be better than this?

 You pulled back from him, and slowly, painfully slow, deathly slow, you lifted the hem of your dress.

 He first saw your thighs, thick and supple, making him swipe his tongue along his bottom lip just imagining the taste of your sweat, of the grooves of your cellulite.

  your dress lifted higher, and his hands flexed, picturing squeezing on the squishy flesh and feeling it fill his palms and pudge out against his fingers where he couldn't quite grasp.

 This was the reward, yes? Pretty, coloured thick thighs he’d be happy to touch, to worship with hips he could sink his teeth into, full and curved and beautifully rounded.

 But your hand lifted higher. Higher. Until he ascended so high he heard the angel’s song again, welcoming him to paradise.

 “Sanji, you’re shaking an’ whining loudly.”

 Was he?

“Wipe the blood first… good boy. Come here, it’s’okay,” you tugged him closer, his face inches away from your panties. “You’ve been so good, I thought you might like to ...” your cheeks burned, “To touch.”

  He could smell it now, the wetness that made your thighs clench earlier. That had you sighing and chewing on your bottom lip as he chased his own pleasure. The arousal that allowed him this far with you, coating your pink panties and, fuuck.

 You-your panties… they— they had the cutest bow on it. right above your mound and the lewd wet patch he ached to… “Did-did you say touch?”

 You nodded, tugging him closer by his hair. “I won’t take off my panties, but I don’t see why you can’t use them to get yourself off, just this once. It’s what you always wanted, right?”

 What he always wanted.

 “Are… are you sure?”

 What he always wanted and prayed and dreamed and lusted after— but he had to make sure. To know this is what you wanted. Sanji couldn’t— he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it weren’t your desire too. Even if he was seeing double and the room tilted on its axis or his blood pooled on the floorboards more than his own body, he wouldn’t be able to stand again without hearing you say—

  “Sanji-kun, touch me.”

 You tugged him closer, cooing your affirmations, stroking his hair. Going slow and speaking so softly, he wondered if you were talking to him at all.

 “It’s okay,” you purred, your eyes gentle. “You can use me to cum. I want to see you cum for me.”

Use you?

His brows knitted. That didn’t sound right.

Use.

 Use.

Use?

 That word felt wrong, dirty. Even in his inebriated, lust-filled fog, Sanji knew that it wasn’t right. That it was tactless. That you deserved better than that.

 “I don’t— I don’t want to ever use you.” he husked. Just saying the word made his stomach churn, and though his limbs felt heavy, he lifted himself a little taller on his knees. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

 Sanji’s sudden coherency surprised you when he was trembling moments before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone, and you could only stare— awed, heated and incredibly wrecked with the emotions he stirred. Yet rather than replying, your grip on him tightened, a challenge tilting your brow, waiting to see what move he’d make with the offer you raised.

 “Okay… oh-okay, ‘m gonna touch you now, darlin’.”

 With all the strength he could muster, Sanji pushed forward and inhaled deeply, pressing his nose in your crotch, and filling his lungs until the only air that could possibly flow through him was you. “Ohh, fuck.” Sanji groaned, the sound vibrating on your most intimate parts, pulling deep from his throat, and sounding nothing short of sinful that had you keening lowly in response.

 “Oh, fuck- oh fuck, darlin’ you’re a dream.” He murmured into your cunt, his words bleeding back to babble as he breathed in long and deep. It was intoxicating, the heady scent of your pussy. Driving him mad, sick, practically delirious by the slick that marred your panties, creating the most dazzling patch of arousal right in the middle. Oh fuck, his tongue immediately began lapping at the damp fabric caging your plump lips. “Fuck!”

 You choked on a moan. “Is that all you can say?”

 Sanji shook his head, his hands finding your full-figured hips and squeezing, eliciting a low mewl with the fat filling his palms and bulging out at the sides just how he pictured it. “Fuck!” he grunted again into your cunt; his mouth muffled but his shouts reverberated from the intensity that shook him at the core. “Fuck-fuck!”

 You huffed out a chuckle. “Sweetie, if it’s too much for you—”

 He couldn’t hear you. Sanji held you tighter, drew you closer into his open mouth, his jaw slack, muscles taut, cock aching— but it was a sensation he could ignore while his tongue messaged and rolled and lapped at your clothed cunt. Dragging along your labia over and over until it wettened enough to slip his tongue down the seam of your pussy, spreading it to finally circle your pulsing clit and suck, the fabric damp with a lewd mixture of slick and saliva as your whimpers rang loud.

 “Fu-uhh, shit, you taste so goo’ fo’me”, his words were gruff, his mind addled— Sanji couldn’t focus past your cunt, your scent, not when it wafted through him and settled deep in his abdomen— twisting lust straight down to his neglected cock drooling on the floor.

 “Sa-anji! Fuck, hmm, keep-keep going!”

 He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips and shoving you harder into his mouth. “Su’ch a pretty cunt, shit-fuck.” He held you firmly, his strength unrelenting even as you swayed, letting you writhe on his face. “Darlin’, sweet girl, sweet sweet cunt, uhh, y’make my cock hurt so-so much. Make me so hard, so dizzy. All you, shit-shit. Uhh-uhh, s’wet fo’me. Tha’ank you. thank y-you, than-k you.”

 You moaned for him, and the sound of it tingled his spine, acutely aware of the sharp tugging on his scalp, but Sanji paid the rest of it no mind. He was touching you, licking your pussy through your pretty panties, inhaling your arousal, making you moan.

 Making you cry his name, making you wet.

 And he answered it all with low hums and deep grunts of praises, thanking you fiercely, his devotion syphoning from every breath as if you poured into him yourself.

 Sanji flickered his tongue on your clit, alternating between soft and hard strokes that had you grinding your hips on his tongue, and he revelled in it while your pussy rewarded him by staining your panties with sticky fluids he drank greedily. Devouring your cunt with his whole face, bumping his nose into your clit, his chin wet, cheeks flushed.

 “Imma cum!” you tried to warn him, to stave off the flutter in your belly and not embarrass yourself by cumming so soon, but his touch, his tongue— even with the panties in the way it only added to the friction. To the burn flooding over your body from the moment you discovered him. You squirmed, rocked, and sighed as the coil tightened in your belly— a sensation so intense you attempted to cinch your thighs, but Sanji pinched your hips, pulling you apart for him, ignoring your pleas.

 Holding you closer, grunting praises, flattening his tongue, pressing hard until you came with a loud cry.

 “Su’ch a goo’girl, so good for me. that’s it, lemme clean that up for you, darlin’.”

 Sanji lapped at your cunt, your panties ruined and almost dripping from your release that he swallowed as best he could before you ripped him off with a harsh tug.

 “Stand,” you panted harshly. Your balance was shoddy, but you stood firm, yanking the man to his full height, and wrapped your fist around his cock. Gently tugging on his flushed sex in quick strokes. “Cum for me.”

 Sanji curled into your touch, white-hot and just barely keeping himself standing with a hard grip on your hips— he slumped into your chest, fucking into your hand chaotically. “I-I didn’t— y-you. Uhh, fuck!”

 “What is it?”

 Tears stung his waterline. “I di-idn’t clean u-uhh, ahh, mmm, I wanted— wanted to clean you u-uhp.” He cried out, fidgeting in your grasp, his cock overly sensitive and shamefully drooling all over your wrist. He wanted to be strong, to make you cum and slump on his chest, but Sanji could hardly keep his eyes open at this point. He felt airy, foggy, every sensation felt like it was dolled up to ten and he couldn’t find the strength to keep standing.

 And it hurt, fuck, his cock hurt. His balls hurt, his chest hurt, breathing hurt— it ended up as short gasps and high-pitch whines into your neck until you brushed your thumb over his slit and Sanji saw stars.

 “ahh! Im-imma cum! ‘mma cu-uuh, fuck-fuck!”

 “It’s okay, sweet boy,” you jerked him firmly with one hand and pulled down the bow of your panties, exposing your plump mound. “Cum right here, I wan’ feel you cum on me.” you slipped his tip between your pussy lips, a low, wet, squelching noise added to his moans now.

 To yours and the raunchy sounds that swirled in between.

 “Sweet-sweetheart!” Sanji squeaked, bucking his hips widely, your pussy smearing wet kisses all over his cock. Hot and squishy and so so delicious his orgasm crashed through him like a tidal wave, surging and pulsing and dousing him with a pleasure that raked a voiceless cry— splatting his cum in your panties and slathering your slit with gooey, icky glops of his release. Your panties filled with both stains of arousal.

“Good boy.” your kisses feathered over his rapid pulse, the praises almost as gentle as your lips. “Such a good boy, shh. I got you, hun.”

 Sanji held you close, shivering through his climax, pitifully cowering his face into the warm crook of your neck until his cries settled into cute whimpers and the spots misting the corners blended into colours he could actually see.

 “Shh, you did so well, cutie.” You stroked his back, unbothered by the sweat clinging to his skin or the sticky, hot mush that was caged to your cunt. the latter tingling the nerves of your spine in an addictive way. “That felt amazing.”

 “Ye-yea?”

“Yes, hun.”

 There were a few seconds of heavy breathing, then shuffling of clothes, and suddenly, Sanji was seated back on the sofa, but the comforting weight of your plush body sat on top of him too. He liked it, it was grounding. Safe.

 Sanji held you tight, his strong arms locking you in place over his lap. Your bodies hot and tempering down ever so slowly in each other’s embrace.

 There’s was a gentle hum in the room, or maybe it was your voice, tenderly washing over him as Sanji came to grips with his body again. With the heat, the sweat and throb of arousal cooling into a low ebb in his abdomen. With the reality that you both stood in and your roles in it. But he couldn’t bring himself to care of anything else but you curling in his lap.

 You smelt nice, you played with his hair and hummed in his ear, and you felt so… so good in his arms.

 “Thank you.” he croaked after a while. Feeling satiated and satisfied sinking into your embrace, Sanji could do nothing else but whisper his thanks into your lips over and over, his kiss filled with all the gratitude of an answered prayer. “Thank you for this, for holding me. I don’t know when it got so out of hand.”

You smirked, patting his chest playfully, hoping he did not notice how your heart soared as you attempted to joke. “probably as soon as I agreed to this little game.”

 This time, Sanji’s smile beaned wide, pretty teeth shining bright. “I just can’t help myself, darlin.” he nuzzled into your cheek, savouring the intimacy. “I told you what would happen if you got too close.”

 You laughed softly, “I suppose I was warned.” You shifted in his lap, straddling him now instead with the gooey mixture flushed hot in your panties, squishing against your achy clit, it made you breathless. Eager. “If you’re a good boy—”

His stomach flipped excitedly.

 “—Maybe we’ll play again.”

 Sanji shuddered, his smile waning as his lips parted cutely. “Don’t tease me. I—”

 “SANJI! OI! I GOT THIS BIG FISH! IT HAS TWO HEADS CAN WE EAT IT?!”

“Oi, Shitty-brow! I found this buried sword, lemme cut you with it!”

 You stifled the laughter behind your hand, the cutest frown scrunching his face from their untimely interruption. Even so, you began moving to crawl off his lap before the other straw hats walked in with their treasures, but Sanji gripped your wrist, his pleading stare shooting familiar sparks in your core.

 “Promise we’ll do this again?”

You smiled warmly, leaning in for a kiss only to swipe your tongue upon his bottom lip, “Yes, and it will stay just between us.”

 Sanji blushed, savouring the taste of you on his own tongue. “Yea, of course. Just between us, darlin’.”

 This time, you stood up to leave, but not without one final look over your shoulder, “just like your cum soaking my panties right now.”

 You quickly slipped out of the room before anyone could notice, twirling your shoe as the sound of a heavy thud crashed behind you and the boys shouts followed shortly after.

 “WOW! So much blood! Was there a fight?! Are they still here?! I wanna fight!”

 “LUFFY N-NO THAT—”

 “EW SHITTY BROW! WAKE UP AND CLEAN THIS SHIT YOU PERV—”

// - tysm for the support! hopefully the tags will hold up this time:333 please do not repost or translate my stories.

Is so well written...........

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby’ or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the whole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it…  He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.

when im in a competition of being cute and round but my opponent is blackleg sanji

senses

summary: luffy loving you through his five senses

a/n: look at that I actually wrote something lmaoo it’s been so long since I’ve done a proper fic. just something sweet with our rubber captain, hope y'all enjoy! (also what the fuck is that ending I dont know )

~~~

sight

Luffy never cared much for appearances nor did he look twice if anyone dressed up. It just wasn’t something important for him. What someone else wears doesn’t affects him in any way. They wear what they want and that was that. The rubber man doesn’t understand why Sanji or Nami would get mad at him when he doesn’t compliment you whenever you wore a dress or something that was different from your usual casual attire. You looked like you, what else was there? His confusion only earns him sighs from his nakama. 

Though Luffy wasn’t one to give much thought to one’s appearances, one of the first things he noticed about you was your smile. Not only that, he’s always drawn to you whenever you smile, a lot like how he focuses on meat. He likes your smile. He doesn’t really have the words to describe it. He wasn’t like Robin who knows a lot of words and reads a lot. But what he can say is that when you smile, you’re happy and Luffy likes it when you’re happy. And when you smile wide and big, Luffy can’t help but be infected by your happiness and smile too. 

Luffy always wants you to smile, but he knows that it takes a lot to smile all the time. Bad things happen that can take away your smile, so Luffy resolves to make you happy as much was possible. He wants you to be happy; you deserve to be happy. 

“You like to look at (y/n) a lot, don’t you Captain?”

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