RORONOA ZORO presses a long, drawn-out kiss to the back of your neck.
His hands started wandering a while ago, mapping out the soft curves of your hips and thighs. Those hands — big and warm and rough — knead across your belly, palming at the shirt you stole from him. It’s sluggish. Lazy. The swordsman is half-asleep, drawn in by a dream that made his cock throb. He isn’t the type to be romantic, not when there’s a chance you’ll catch it — but when you’re still asleep?
He can look at you like he loves you. He does. He settled on that a long time ago.
The green-haired swordsman nips lazily at your pulse. You mumble out something close to his name, then snuggle deeper into the sheets. Your hips knock his, and Zoro hisses, his cock nudged up against the soft swell of your ass.
Zoro rocks back, hands guiding your hips down — his other twirling the hair at the base of your neck. His eyes watch the sight in the dark of your bunk, and he can’t help but slip a hand between the juncture of your thighs. He can feel the plush folds through the thin cotton of your bottoms, and you sigh when his thumb nudges your clit. Your legs kick in the sheets, and you — in the haze of sleep — let him guide your leg up, hitched against the mattress.
Zoro stares for a while, intensely focused on the view of you lying on your belly. He palms his arousal, stroking slowly as his forearms flex. He bends over you, bites another soft kiss into your shoulder, before crooking his index and middle fingers into your panties and pulling them aside.
It’s hot. It always is — when your eyes flash open, and the world comes into view, the moment he buries his cock inside of you.
Zoro knows you’re awake now. He sees your hands twitch in the sheets and hears the catch of your breath. His expression is intense when you crane your neck, spying the blown pupils and pink ears of the swordsman. He kisses you, eating up another sound of bliss when he pulls out, and groans when he fucks back in.
“Couldn’t help it,” he rasps, “You looked — shit — so fuckin’… gorgeous.”
Your eyes roll back as you plant your head into the pillow, muffling the unbecoming sound he fucks out of you. You can’t manage a single word of complaint — not that you have any. No, your head is still swimming from REM, and your body is lax with your eyes half-open. Complaining isn’t really top of mind, not when he rolls his hips and the head of him nudges that spot that makes your toes curl.
“Shit, baby, you’re so wet,” he mutters in the dark, his voice like velvet, “You… You love this, huh? Waking up, stuffed full a’ me?”
He calls you ‘baby,’ and it makes your brain go a little fuzzy — because petnames aren’t Roronoa Zoro’s thing until they are. Until it’s a soft, tender moment or something nastier. Filthier. Like now, as his pace grows more intense and the white-hot coil in your belly tightens and—
“I fuckin’ love you,” he babbles, pace crumbling, “No one makes me — fuck — no one makes me feel like this.”
Those words spark a cascade. Your orgasm rushes up hard and fast without warning, ushered in by the confession whispered into your hair — and he follows with a sound that’s absolutely sinful.
“Shit, shit, yes, take it, baby—”
Breathy, needy, nearly whining. Zoro comes so hard his voice fries into a gasp, your name mumbled around a string of curses.
Your legs tremble as he comes deep, mouth returning to press long, drawn-out kisses to the back of your neck as he comes down from the bright burn of pleasure.
Only when he leans back, pulls out, and spreads you wide does he speak again. You can hear the smirk as he palms your ass and watches his spend dribble out down your folds, profoundly proud.
You tremble, mash your face into the pillow and heave out:
Status: Ongoing
Last Updated: 7/26/2026
Word Count: 13k
Chapters: 4/?
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader (No Use Of Y/N)
Summary:
Unbeknownst to each other, you and Sanji make anonymous love- matched through a brothel that removed your sense of sight and speech.
Thinking you may one day want to know your mysterious lover, Nami steals your file and learns the truth. When she accuses Sanji of orchestrating the whole thing, everyone's world begins to fall apart.
CW: Plot Heavy. Angst Heavy. Eventual HEA. Some Fluff. Smut and Mature Sexual Themes.
Each CH has it's own CW & Summary.
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Click each individual Chapter to take you where you want to go.
CH 1) Anonymous Nights
CH 2) Wined and Dined
CH 3) Soured
CH 4) Sunken
Status: Ongoing
Last Updated: 7/17/2026
Word Count: 11k
Chapters: 4/?
[AU] Germa!Sanji / Princess!Reader [AU]
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader(No Use Of Y/N)
Summary:
When the conquerors came, your kingdom was quickly overrun. Wanting to retain any bit of his power, your father- the King- quickly signed the treaty and agreed to seal it in wedlock. With little hesitation, he offers you to the brutal fate to be the bride of a Vinsmoke Prince.
Slowly, you get to know your husband and find that the two of you have more in common than you think. Appearing to honor the vows he was forced to say, Sanji attempts to shield you from his family and the violent life of the Germa Kingdom. But, when his cruel King Father begins enacting a scheme that involves you both, the two of you become allies and then, friends.
And maybe even Husband and Wife in something other than name.
This is an Alternate Universe story where Sanji never escaped Germa and learned to survive within it.
CW: Arranged / Forced Marriage. Plot Heavy. Angst Heavy. Will Include Fluff & Smut.
Includes extreme content with mature themes of sex, violence, and oppression.
Each CH has it's own CW & Summary. Mind the tags- some chapters will be marked DD:DNE
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Click each individual Chapter to take you where you want to go.
CH 1) Purest Sacrifice
CH 2) Vowed
CH 3) Gone From the Garden
CH 4) Wedding Night
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader [No use of y/n]
Summary: After participating in the brothel's special service, all you really want to do is go home and spend some time with the one person who always chases away the more unsavory feelings. With the whole ship to yourselves, you and Sanji spend a playful evening enjoying each other's company.
CW: Slight Angst, Slightly Suggestive, Playful Banter, Mutual Yearning, French
Word Count: 3.4k
CH 2
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With a sigh, your head tips back letting the warm water shower down your body. Hands scrubbing, a soft floral scent washes away the scent of sex- the evidence of the earth shattering love you just made swirling down the drain, your heart going along with it.
Coming back into your body, clean and separated from the man who gave you exactly what you asked for- you’re no longer certain you should have asked for it. You thought it would be better than the soulless prostitution you’d had before- and it was. It was wonderfully, perfectly, indescribably better. There’s no shameful sickness settling heavy in your stomach, but there’s an all too familiar pang through your chest.
Stepping out of the shower, you pat dry and stare at your own naked reflection, tracing every curve your match had mapped. He was incredible. Just as sublime as the Madam had promised. True to her word, he’d been an ‘exceedingly perfect match’. Perhaps, even, too perfect.
How agonizing to share something so spectacular and existing in the after knowing you’ll never share it again. The way he touched you, the way he had held. You imagine his heart must have been aching for something he couldn’t have- just as yours often did.
Shaking your head, you try not to let your mind wander places it oughtn’t. Allowing it for the brief moment he embraced you in his arms had been enough- had been more than you were entitled to…
But, your mind is already casting his formless body into a more familiar shape…
Slapping your hands over your face, you groan, then force yourself to focus. Arranged upon the counter are various cosmetics- some you’re familiar with and some you’re not. One though, had been left with a very specific purpose. Squinting, you read the tiny letters printed on the tag attached to it before unscrewing the lid and gathering a dollop on your fingers. It’s cool to the touch and smells like nothing- but you tilt your head and admire the little violet bloom your match had left at the base of your neck.
Though, you feel almost sad to do so- to let the physical reminder of him and the moment you shared together go- you smear it over his mark. Near instantly, it begins to fade. And, if the instructions are to be believed, within the hour will vanish completely.
But, that’s fitting, you think. It was all best left behind, lest it drive you restlessly mad. Besides, you didn’t want to go back to the crew with such obvious evidence imprinted on your skin. It was embarrassing enough that Nami knows, you’d cast yourself overboard if the rest of your friends figured it out as well.
Dressing back into the clothes you arrived in, you slip out the door and back into the real world.
A little bell chimes above you as you enter the quiet cafe, warm herbal scents meeting you with the companionable comfort of freshly baked goods. Nami is tucked back in the corner, looking up from her stacked papers as you approach. Slowly, her grin stretches across her face and she plops her chin into her hand.
Rolling your eyes, you fall into the seat across from her, “don’t even start,” you warn, face warming.
“I didn’t say anything,” she says, openly staring at you. Before you can retort, a waitress comes by and places a teacup in front of you, delicate wisps of steam rising from the rim. No sooner than you give your thanks and she’s out of earshot does the question come, “so how was it?”
“Nami!” you chastise with a hushed voice.
“Oh, come on, I’m dying to know,” she presses.
Stalling, you take a sip of your tea, eyes bashfully gazing anywhere but her pointed inquiry. “It…” you blush, voice barely a whisper, “it was really good.”
“Really good? That’s it? That’s all you got?” She crosses her arms with a disapproving lift to her brow.
You can’t hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips or the deep rose that blooms across your cheeks, “it was… really, really, good,” you admit. “He was…” the words fall apart in your mouth and your hand presses over your eyes to hide from the embarrassment that creeps down your neck.
“The man you couldn’t see or hear?” she clarifies skeptically.
“Yes,” you affirm. “But it was like…” you glance around to make sure no one could possibly overhear this conversation, “it was like we were totally in sync and the way he-” quickly, you fill your mouth with tea before it says more than it should.
“Well, I don’t get it,” she admits, “but I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
With a sigh, you stare into your tea, “I did…”
Nami frowns, sensing something else, “but?”
Shrugging, your thumbs brush across the rim, “I just… I dunno,” you shake your head. “I guess…” you sigh, completely failing to articulate the emotions that linger. “I did enjoy myself,” you say again.
“For how expensive it was, I’d burn the place down if you didn’t,” she takes a sip of her drink, completely serious.
“Well, actually… about that…” your hand rubs at the back of your neck, “I didn’t pay.”
With a mischievous grin, she sets her cup down with a clink! “Atta girl, do you need to hide on the ship tonight?”
“What,” you blink, “-no! I didn’t skip out,” you quickly explain. “He paid for it- all of it.”
Nami sits back with a surprised purse of her lips, “really?”
“Yes,” you tell her. “Not just the…” you wave your hand, “but, everything else too- my tab from the spa, he closed it all out.”
An approving look slides across her face, fingers rubbing at her chin, “well, well, guess it was really, really, good for him too,” she teases and you blush, hoping that’s true. “Will you see him again?” she asks, “they asked Chopper to do a lecture on microbes or whatever at the hospital tomorrow so we’re not leaving until after.”
“No, Nami,” you shake your head, “I’ll never see him again. I’ll never even know who he was.”
Frowning, she asks, “do you want to?”
“It wouldn’t matter if I did. The service is strictly anonymous, they won’t tell you even if you ask. It was part of the agreement they made me sign,” you explain.
For a moment, she quiets, chewing on her lip and glancing around the room before leaning in, “I could get it for you.”
“What?”
“They keep records,” her voice hushes, “I could go in tonight and find his.”
“Nami!” your eyes widen, voice rising. “No!”
“Oh, come on, aren’t you curious?” she insists.
“Well… sure, but-”
“So I’ll find out-”
“No,” you say more firmly, hands bracing against the table, “no, I don’t want that.”
“Alright, alright,” she raises her hands in surrender. “I hear you.”
Letting out a long sigh, “thanks for offering, though.”
“Eh,” she shrugs, “bet they got all kinds of expensive stuff in that fancy house.” Playfully, you kick her under the table and she snorts, rolling her eyes. “You hungry?”
“Starving, actually,” you admit.
Nami wiggles her brows, “worked up an appetite?”
“Stop it,” you groan, flicking a crumb in her direction.
“Well, since you’re richer than you expected to be this morning, wanna go to one of the fancy places? Your treat,” she adds with a wink.
“Honestly,” you sigh, “I kinda just wanna go home. Do you think Sanji’s back from the market?”
“Should be. He said he was probably gonna stay on board tonight, doing inventory or something.”
“Alright,” you nod, “I’m going to go back to the ship, then.”
“Are you coming out tonight?”
“Not sure yet,” you tell her standing. Though, you doubt you’ll be feeling up for it, you’re certain she’ll come try to drag you out regardless.
“Want me to walk with you?” Nami offers.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay,” she smiles, “see you later, hun.” Nami’s eyes trail after you as you leave the cafe, noting the dip to your shoulders and the distant look in your eyes as you slip out the door.
Landing on the deck of the Sunny, some of the tension in your body eases. When you open the door and hear someone rummaging in the kitchen, it melts away completely. Rounding the counter, you find the source stacking crates in the pantry, sleeves rolled up “Sanji,” you call out and he immediately turns towards you.
“Ma chérie~!” he opens his hands as if in awe of your arrival, leaving the crates behind to come lean against the counter next to you.
“Did you have a good time at the market?” your eyes shine up at him and Sanji blushes a little, glancing away.
“Yeah,” he says, “yeah. I just, uh-” he clears his throat. “I had them deliver the boxes, so I was just putting everything away.”
Peering around his towering frame, you see what all he has left, “let me help you,” you offer.
“You don’t need to do that,” he smiles wide at you, “just let me take care of it.”
“I want to help,” you insist, eager for a task to draw your attention away from things you don’t want it lingering on. “Besides,” you frown, pressing your hand to his forehead and his eyes fall closed, “you’re burning up, you need a break.”
Gently, he removes your hand, placing a kiss upon it, “don’t worry, Princess. I’m almost finished,” your hand tingles where his lips touch. His thumb smoothing as he frowns a little, “but what are you doing here? I thought you were spending the day with Nami?”
“I was,” you blush, despite the fact that it’s technically not a lie. “I just needed to rest a bit.”
His expressions falls to concern, “are you alright? What happened?” eyes searching for any sign of something amiss.
“I’m fine,” you insist, smiling, “just a bit tired. And I was hoping to find you here.”
“You were?” he leans in closer, blue eyes bright.
“Well, I was just wondering if…”
“Yes?” he hangs on every word.
A little pang of guilt shoots through, “it’s okay if not, I know we’re all supposed to be taking a break.”
“Ma chérie,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “you can ask me for anything.”
“I was hoping you’d make me something.”
“Something to eat? Are you hungry, love?” You nod and he smiles, chuckling a little as be brings your hands to his chest and bends to eye level, “of course I will. There’s no greater joy in my life than cooking for you.” Sanji places another quick kiss to your hands before stepping back into the pantry. “In fact,” he says pointedly, head tilting at one of the crates, “there’s something I’m dying to test out. So,” he grins back at you, “whaddya say? Wanna be my assistant?”
With a big smile that lights his heart on fire you give him an eager yes.
Laughter rings through the kitchen, alight with pure delight as Sanji puts on a whole spectacle. Not only does he cook for you, but he gives you a show- flipping knives, dancing flames, and cracking jokes with an easygoing smile. When he flips the pan behind his back, you clap- both of you having fun indulging the showmanship he didn’t often get to show off.
“Okay, next one,” he says and you straighten in your seat at the counter. “Close your eyes,” you do, instantly. “Open your mouth,” your sweet lips part and he tips forward. A light rose dusts across your cheeks as you feel him come close and slip the spoon past your lips. “Alright,” he says, pulling away, “what’s that one?”
Lashes fluttering open, you mull the spice around in your mouth before swallowing. “Hmm,” biting your lip, you scrunch up your face and answer, “coriander?”
Sanji claps and points at you approvingly, “three for three!” Hand falling to your chest, your shoulders shimmy with victory. “You’re getting good at this, ma chérie.”
“Thank you, Chef,” you smile, taking a sip of the drink Sanji made for you. “I have a good teacher.” Beaming proudly, you tip the little chef’s hat he’d placed on your head.
Sanji’s heart flips and he turns towards the stove to hide the expression on his face. Stirring the sauce, he listens to the sweet little hums of your voice as you sample more of the appetizers he made for you to have while he finishes the main course.
He loves this. These perfect, easy, playful moments the two of you spend together. There is nothing in the world Sanji would trade them for. And nothing in the world he would risk them for- not even his own selfish desires that simmer below the surface, occasionally threatening to boil over.
When the mischevious giggle you try so desperately to surpress finds him, he grins, “Oh, mon cœur~” he lilts, “you’re not doing something naughty, are you?”
Caught, you still, “no, Chef!” you lie, hand slowly grabbing at a piece of food you weren’t yet supposed to eat.
Quickly, Sanji whirls and catches your wrist. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, disapprovingly, head cocked and brow lifted- something warm spreading low as he looks down at you. “Wanna try again, darling?”
“Sorry, Chef,” you relent, teeth lightly sinking into your lip. “I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Is that so?” Sanji leans across the counter, not releasing you from his grasp. Rather, his hand slides up, fingers covering yours where they pinch the stolen little bite. “Well, maybe I’ll let it slide,” he brings it to your lips, “just this once.” Opening your mouth, he presses your fingers inside- his own dragging lightly across your lips in a way that draws a quiet little sound from them. Mouth closing, your lips wrap around the tips of both your fingers and Sanji bites back a groan at the feel of it. For a moment, your eyes lock and heat rises between you- before Sanji pulls his hand away and you take your bite with a bashful look towards the counter.
Without looking up at him, you take another sip of your drink- willing it to cool you down. Still reeling more than you realized from your earlier encounter today. “So, how was it?” he asks and you nearly choke, face flaring.
“What?” you blink, putting your glass down.
Sanji tilts his head at you, “well, I need my assistant’s opinion,” he shrugs, giving you a charming smile that eases you back into the moment.
“Hmm,” you tap your chin thoughtfully like there could ever possibly be another answer other than, “it’s delicious!”
Laughing, Sanji shakes his head, “you say that about everything I give you.”
“Well, if you give me something less tasty then perhaps my answer will change,” you reason.
“Ah, no,” he points. “Not happening. Only the best for my girl,” he winks at you and your heart jumps in your chest. Though, you know it’s only his usual flirting, after everything you did today, you can’t help but feel particularly warm inside. “Speaking of,” he continues, “it’s almost ready.”
“Shall I set the table, Chef?”
“Actually, I have another idea,” he says and you lean forward, eager to hear it. “Seeing as we have the ship all to ourselves this evening, I’m thinking…” he reaches under the counter and pulls up a fancy looking bottle of wine. “Dinner under the stars? You, me, and this bottle of wine, hm?”
The smile that blooms across your face and the light that shines in your eyes is enough to nearly make him collapse. There’s a part of him, that says it’s not right the way he wants to charm you after just having shared his body with some stranger only hours ago.
Almost as loud as the voice that told him to stop imagining you as he did it- calling your name when he was deep inside her, knowing it would never be heard. But, it doesn’t change the way everything inside him sings for you. Doesn’t change the fact that his mind superimposed your image upon the shadow and his body- his heart- still reacts as if it were so.
“Oh, wined and dined by the Chef, himself? Such excellent service,” you tease, heart soaring.
“Well, mademoiselle,” Sanji touches your chin affectionately, holding you there so you can’t turn away, “I do aim to please,” and he can watch as the pretty blush blooms across your cheeks. He’s always adored the way you respond to his flirtations. Playful- bashful, even- never completely shutting him down. It’s hard to recall exactly when they began turning into something a little bit more for him- when exactly he began living for every reaction you ever gave him.
“I’ll get the table set up,” you offer when he pulls away.
“Nope,” he denies quickly, “you go relax. Give me 20 minutes, I’ll have it all ready.”
“But-”
Finger up, he silences you, “part of the service, ma chérie,” he winks.
“But I thought I was your assistant,” you pout and Sanji’s eyes are drawn to the curve of your lip.
“You are,” he assures. “However, you are officially,” he removes your hat, “off the clock.”
Leaning forward, Sanji’s heart stops when your voice calls up to him sweetly, “you can always work me overtime.” Heat rushes across his face and down into lower places hidden behind the counter. Though, he knows you don’t mean it the way his mind immediately takes it- pretty little eyes looking up surprised at his flustered reaction.
Your lips part again, but Sanji clears his throat before you can ruin him further, “Chef’s orders, Princess.”
“But, you just said I’m off the clock- so technically I don’t have to listen to the Chef,” you challenge.
“You do if you want dessert~” he lilts.
Gasping, you give him a playfully indignant look before sliding off your seat and he watches as you disappear into the hall- deeper into the ship. With a groan, his hand slides down his face before he taps into his speed and quickly sets about arranging everything perfectly for what he has to remind his heart is not a date.
Quickly, you pull your day clothes off- deciding instead to slip into something a bit more elegant to lean into the night. A simple, long dress of silk drapes down your silhouette, dripping blue of the night. When Sanji knocks on your door, your heart dances to see he’d the same idea- dressed sharply and handsome.
“Your escort has arrived, mademoiselle,” he grins at you.
“An escort?” you giggle, stepping out into the hall.
“Part of the service,” he winks. “May I?” Sanji places a flower from the garden in your hair before offering his arm and leading you to the upper deck.
There the two of you laugh and talk through the sunset, sharing your meal and drinking the wine- indulging in each other’s company long after both are gone and the stars blanket the sky.
In the quiet hours of the deep night, long after Sanji walked you back to your room, he finds himself, once more, in the kitchen. Everything’s been cleaned up, but he was still far too wired for sleep. Instead, he keeps the lights low, doing some additional prep for the coming week.
The work soothes him, grounds him- even as his head and his heart threaten to blissfully fly away after sharing such a perfect evening with you. The joy it brings him can’t be contained, flowing out in a melodious song of his first language. Rising and falling, lilting and musical- the song only interrupted by the creaking of the outer door and a shadow slowly stepping inside.
Looking up from his work, Sanji beams, “Nami-Swan~! You’re back from-”
“Cut the shit, Sanji,” her words are so sharp they slice him still. When she looks up at him her eyes are red with both tears and fury. “We need to talk.”
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader [No use of y/n]
Summary: Heartsick and lonely on a new island, you turn towards a brothel that offers a renowned, yet unusual, service. They will match you with another willing participant and suppress both sight and speech so that you can indulge in your desires completely anonymously.
Reader and Sanji are matched through the service, unbeknownst to each of them.
CW: Sensory Deprivation, Fingering (F Rec), Oral (F Rec), Handjob (M Rec), Creampie, Squirting, Slightly Rougher Sex, Cuddling, Slight Angst
Word Count: 3.7k
CH 1
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The midday sun shines through the bay windows of the ornate office, and a well dressed woman relaxes in her chair on the other side of her wooden desk. “You know,” her smooth voice calls, “I do have other options, if you’d prefer. For first timers or the more…” she casts a look towards your fidgeting hands, “nervous, patrons. I have darlings who specialize in that sort of thing.”
“No,” you shake your head, quickly refuting her her, “I don’t need that- I’m not nervous.” An obvious lie, betrayed by the quickened tumble of your words from a slightly shaky voice. “I just… I’ve never done something like this before.”
“I suppose not,” she peers over at you above her half moon glasses, “I don’t believe there is any other establishment offering the kind of service that we do. But, it’s been quite popular. I am very certain I can give you a good match.”
On an island deep in the Grand Line, you find yourself in a place you never imagined.
A brothel.
A famous brothel, apparently. At least according to the drunken conversations you overheard at the bar the crew was wiling away the hours in last night. Sitting here now, in this grand estate, you’re certain the rumors are true.
Typically, you’ve never been one for such establishments. You had tried, a few times. When that lonely ache was so agonizing you found yourself desperate for company and release. But, while it felt nice in the moment, you always tended to feel worse in the hours after. Far lonelier than you’d been before and heart wrenching knowing that none of it was truly real. Honeyed words turning sour in your stomach as you realize that no one actually loved you or wanted you the way they were paid to tell you they did. So you stopped trying.
Yet, the ache never goes away, rising and chipping away at your heart so dreadfully you’d start to think, once again, that the few minutes of fantasy might be worth it. But, you’d always pulled yourself back from that ledge before you stumbled off it.
This brothel, however, offers something different. Something that maybe your heart can stand to seek comfort in- just this once. “Is it the sensory deprivation?” the Madam asks, rooting for the core of your hesitation, “is that what concerns you?”
“Um, not really,” you fidget. “My friend knows where I am and what I’m doing.” Despite how embarrassing it was, you weren’t willing to take the risk of no one knowing where you are, so you told Nami. Regardless of the seemingly spotless reputation- which you only learned of last night- it’s still a sex house on an unknown island. Nami promised to keep your vivre card close and your secret closer- and to come find you if you weren’t back by the given time.
“Well, sweetheart,” she soothes, “this is a house of desires. There are many other ways I can fulfill yours.”
“No,” you insist, “this is what I want. I want to do this.”
“Then I shall not deny you,” with a saccharine smile, her fingers trail across the file opened before her. Pages of forms you filled out this morning that asked all sorts of personal questions that teetered on the edge of mortifying. But, you wanted this to work, so you answered them all diligently and honestly. “In fact,” she says, “you don’t need to wait any longer.”
Hands pressing together and pulse picking up, you look at her wide eyed, “really?”
Adjusting her glasses, she looks towards the man at the door, “is 33 still on the premises?”
The guard turns into the communicator at his hear for a moment before confirming, “yes, Madam.”
“Excellent. Get him prepped,” she orders before giving you a wink, “tell him we have a match.”
“That soon?” Based on what you’d heard regarding how many people register daily, and what the representative told you this morning when they explained the service, you expected a much longer wait.
“The stars shine in your favor. I’ve another participate ready to go and you are an exceedingly perfect match.”
“Really…?” nervously, you wonder how true that is.
“Darling, I’ve been doing this a long time,” she assures you. “No one leaves unsatisfied. It is a very good match.”
Nodding, you take a steadying breath, preparing yourself to meet your match. In a sense, anyway. The two of you will be given a dose of minor sensory deprivation that prevents sight and speech. Touch and sound otherwise would be unimpeded.
At first, you weren’t sure what to think of it. It’s certainly unorthodox- and a bit scary, even. But, the more you thought about it, the more you came around to the idea. Your match wasn’t a worker- they weren’t someone being paid to provide you with company. They were someone who wanted the same thing you did. In that sense, it was at least more genuine and real. But, the lack of sight and speech would give your heart a buffer against any memories of regret. It removes the reservation and leaves nothing but pleasure. At least- yearning for comfort- you hope that it will.
“Come now,” the Madam rises, smoothing her skirt and you follow her through the sprawling halls of the tastefully decorated manor. Lavish and decadent, the whole place is pleasurable to the senses- a grand fitting monument to indulgence. Nothing at all like the brothels that often lined the bar streets of the islands you’ve visited before.
Under your slippered feet, the carpets are as plush as the complimentary robe draped around your body. After filling out your paperwork, you’d spent a few hours in the one site spa, body still feeling relaxed and renewed- though anxiously eager for what comes next.
In a small room, the Madam stops- door closing behind. A well dressed butler steps up and presents a polished silver tray with a crystal glass atop it. “Now,” she stresses, “do you remember how to stop the encounter, should you choose?” Bringing your hands together, you clap twice to demonstrate the signal. “Good,” she nods. “The room will be monitored and a guard will intervene should anything go awry- not that I have any expectation that it will,” she adds pointedly, “it’s more to put your mind at ease than anything.”
“You mean…” your hands pull your robe tighter across your frame, “people will be watching?”
“Only one,” she holds up a singular finger. “A trusted member of my staff will be monitoring the participants. You won’t even know he’s there, he’ll be watching through a special mirror from an adjoining room.”
“Okay…” you suppose it does make sense. And it is reassuring to know they actually take your safety seriously, though the prospect is rather embarrassing. You try not to think about it.
“When you hear the chime,” a sweet bell rings through the room, “you have five minutes before you’ll be escorted away. Once in a private room, you’ll be given the reversal potion to return your senses, as well as your clothes and personal effects you arrived with. You'll be able to clean up and light refreshments will be provided before you’re sent on your way.”
“And the guy, will he…?”
“He will be in a different room. Exiting through a different area of the estate. You will not meet.”
“He’ll never see me?”
“And you will never see him,” she confirms. “Are you ready?”
Without further thought or time to talk yourself out of it, you take the glass and tip it to your lips. It tingles on your tongue, but you don’t feel any different. Opening your mouth, you make to ask how long it takes the effects to kick in- but no sound escapes and quickly the room dims into darkness.
An arm wraps around yours, guiding you into your room- only the sound of your hammering heart beats in your ears. With every step, heat rises as your body flushes, being led to your partner. Silently, you pray the Madam is right and that he’s as good a match as she says.
The edge of the bed hits against your knees and you stop, the worker taking your hand and bringing it out- pressing it into one much larger and warmer than your own. His fingers wrap around yours with a soundless breathy sigh. The worker pulls away and you hear them cross the room and close the door, leaving you alone with a stranger wrapped in darkness and draped in desire.
For a long moment, the two of you stay still, hands pressed together- just feeling one another’s presence. Slowly, long fingers begin delicately tracing your own- their tips gracing featherlight in exploration. Trailing softly down your palm, up the sensitive skin of your wrist, and rising up your arm where his big hand rubs up under the sleeve of your robe.
Before he goes any further, his fingers wrap around yours and he brings them up to his lips, laying a kiss upon your hand before placing it to the warm expanse of his chest- allowing you to touch him first. He’s solid, well defined and so, so, warm- nearly feverish. Adding another hand, you roam shamelessly over his body and feel his heart flutter as your hands drag across his chest.
Feeling emboldened by the way he presses into your touch, you pull his robe apart and drop your hands down his stomach- blushing at the feel of his strong body. Tracing the divots of his rolling muscles, your mind can’t help but imagine what he must look like. Lower on his hips, you find the smooth tips of the arrows that dip down into something that heats the pool between your legs. But, just before you reach it, you grab his hand and bring it to your own chest.
Eagerly, he accepts the invitation, hand pressing between the swell of your breasts. Both hands come to cascade over the mounds, cupping the heavy curves in his hands just to feel their weight. Gently, he rubs and kneads at each breast with expert touch, grinding your nipples into the cup of his palm. While his movements steadily grow hungrier, his hands slightly tremble and you think that he’s perhaps holding back.
But, you don’t want him to hold back. You want his unbridled desire and passion unleashed upon you, liberating your own.
To encourage him, you arch into his touch, hands pressing him harder against you, forcing a rougher grab at your needy body. Immediately, he understands what you’re asking and he gives it to you. Ravenously, his hands drag across your shape, so big that together they cover so much of the expanse of your core, making you feel so wrapped up in his rapacious strokes.
When he reaches the knot of your robe, he doesn’t timidly seek your permission. Rather, he fists the fabric over your waist and rips it open, dropping it to the floor and leaving you bare before him. Though he doesn’t hear your gasp, he certainly feels it with such a tight grip on your body. It spurs him on and he feels you out, rubbing down every inch he can reach to memorize the map of your figure.
Heat rises along with the desire, the lack of sight only heightening the sensation of touch. And you want him touching more, want to feel more of him- pressed up against you. Reaching, you put your own hands back onto his body, tugging eagerly at his robe and he lets you push it off him. Naked and bare, your hands race over each other as the temperature rises between you.
Rolling your body into his, the blackened world whirls suddenly and your heart jumps as you fall back onto the bed, legs draped over the edge. Kneeling down between them, he throws them over his shoulders and wraps his arms around your thighs. Rapidly your breaths come and your knees press together, but he holds you open and dives between them.
With no hesitation, no build up, no teasing- he falls face first into your cunt, tongue swiping long from core to clit. Though you can’t hear him, you can feel the long groan that rumbles from his mouth and vibrates through his tongue, the sensation pooling more heat that he eagerly laps up. You’re grateful then for the darkness to hide the embarrassment you know must show on your face by how flushed you feel.
He dines on you like a man who’s been starving for it. It’s entirely for his own pleasure the way he eats at you. Mouth messy, tongue writhing as it pushes in and out, sucking up the slick that gathers and latching onto your clit to make more. Back arching, your fingers tangle in his hair and you surrender yourself to the pleasure. Allowing yourself to indulge in it, allowing this stranger to give it to you and allowing him to take whatever he needs from your body. Because that’s what you need- what you’ve so craved all this time. Someone who desperately needs you as much as you need them.
Fingers dip into you and your whole body jolts, legs tightening around his head before falling back onto the soft bed. Mouth suckling at your clit, his long fingers rock into you, touching places you can never reach on your own. Pads of his fingers dragging across something sensitive, knuckles bumping against your cunt. When he curls into you, tears pool at your eyes and your hands tangle tighter in his soft hair.
He doesn’t relent. Curling, pushing, thrusting, sucking- tongue swirling over the swollen bud between his lips. Though you can’t hear the sound of your own voice, you know it’s breaking in your mouth, throat vibrating with the silent cries he draws out of you. You can, however, hear the wet sound slicking between your legs as he brings you to the brink, growing wetter as your body coils tight. When the vibration of his soundless voice rolls against your clit, you cum and he stays the course, steering you through the pleasure.
When you start twitching beneath him, he pushes you back onto the bed fully in one strong motion and crawls atop you. Warm breath ghosting your neck, you arch back, opening your legs, letting him settle fully between them. Arms wrapping around his neck, you hold on as he starts humping against you, dragging his hard cock over your dripping cunt. Quiet whimpers and hushed whines stutter in your chest, pressed against his as you hold him close.
Cunt clenching with every thrust, his cockhead rubs over your aching clit. Overcome with the need to feel him, you reach down and take him in your hand and he nearly collapses. Pumping his cock, you feel the length- long and hard and slightly curved. He’s so wet and sticky, you almost think he’s already cum, but then you feel the slick pour from his tip and pool in your hands. Using it to glide the drag of your hand, you feel some drip down onto your open cunt. He’s so hot. His body like a furnace that continues to rise, his cock piping and arousal salivatingly scorching.
Tightening your grip, you pump him faster- unable to pull your hand away. He trembles above you, hips humping into your grasp. When you reach down and start working his cockhead with your other hand his whole body convulses and he cums near instantly, drenching you with his release. Pooling in your hand and spurting over your stomach, thick ribbons dripping hot as candle wax onto your cunt.
This was what you’d been missing. The feeling of someone coming undone upon you. Though, there’s a pang in your chest thinking it’s over. Now that he’s cum, you expect to hear the sound of his hands clapping above you to end the session.
But, he doesn’t.
Instead he kisses at your neck, licking at your pulse- lingering when he feels the jolt of your body to signal he’s discovered something sweetly sensitive. Eyes fluttering as he sucks at it, your cum coated body rolls up against his, desire flaring again between your legs.
His still hard cock presses against your entrance and your eyes heat with the promise of more. Locking your legs around his waist, you completely open yourself for him and he pushes in. One long, slow, agonizingly wonderful push that has you arching off the bed, legs tightening and fingers digging against his back. Slid home, your breathes mingle in a long sigh- signaling how much you both needed this.
He waits until he feels your hips rolling up against him to start fucking you. Slow, at first, but rapidly rising, both of you long past restraint. Just two people chasing a shared need. As much as you can, you encourage him to fuck you harder- to have what he needs, to use your body and drive the pleasure into you as he takes it. And he does. Hips losing rhythm to a more primal thrust, mouth still sucking and licking at the spot that has you pleading.
Hand reaching between your bodies, you try to rub at your clit, but he continues fucking you so hard you can’t keep steady enough. Sensing what you’re trying to do, the stranger pulls back, sitting up between your legs. Big hands grip at your hips and before you can blink, you’re flipped so quickly onto your stomach it knocks the wind from you.
Thrill pools low in your body, cunt squeezing around his cock as he pulls your hips up with one arm and use his other hand to force the deep arch of your back. Fingers curling into the sheets, you’re desperate for purchase as he starts fucking into you from behind, hitting deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before.
Delicious tears stream down your cheeks and electricity shocks up your spine as his curved cock drives precise pleasure to that delicate spot behind your clit. When you settle into your position, body slacking for his taking, his hand drags down your spine and coils around your hip to find your clit.
Taking it between his knuckles, he rolls pleasure into you, hand vibrating with preternatural speed. Immediately, your cunt begins to clench and you’re forced over the edge- pushed by a sensation you’ve never felt before. But, he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ease up. Doesn’t slow. If anything, the grip around his dick spurs him harder and he adjusts the angle of his thrusts so his cockhead fucks directly into your sweet spot.
Drool pools from your lips and even in the blackness of your vision, there are stars as he fucks you from the inside out- pressure building and swelling. As much as you can, you fuck back against him, the rawness in your throat proof of the way you’re crying and begging for him. Whatever he’s doing, you don’t want him to stop.
And he doesn’t.
He takes you to a place where there’s nothing but you and him and the pleasure he gives and the pleasure he takes. He fucks you wild and desperate like he knows he’ll never fuck you again, but he’s determined to leave his mark on you. To ruin you for any other man who will never come close to giving you what he’s giving you right now.
The levee breaks and you along with it, giving him exactly what he wants as your body gushes over his fingers and you cum harder than you ever have in your life. Still, he doesn’t stop. Even as you flood his hand, he milks your clit for every last drop of squirt he can coax. Even as he cums hot and deep in your cunt, his hips still thrust, fucking it inside you.
The pleasure is all consuming and you don’t have the strength to do anything but lay there and take it, body collapsing in his grasp. His strong arms keep a hold of you, propping you up until he’s finished and it draws the pleasure out how erotic it is to be his doll.
When he slows, he lets you down easy, draping himself across your back and trailing kisses across your shoulders. Wrapping you in his arms and holding you steady, he slowly pulls out- the mix cum pouring thick and hot from between your legs, soaking your thighs and the bed below.
Panting, you try to catch your breath- but it steals away when he touches you in a way you don’t expect. Gently, he settles into the bed and pulls you into his arms and your heart near bursts. Softly, his fingers pet through your hair and his lips press against the crown of your head.
He holds you the way you’ve so longed to be held- with the tenderness of a true lover. As if what you just shared was real and intimate and you have all the time in the world to live in this moment together.
Yet, you know you don't. Desperately, you try to keep the cracks from breaking through your heart to live in the fantasy a little longer. By the way he holds you, you wonder if he’s doing the same.
Tucked in embrace, your nuzzle into the crook of his neck and place a soft kiss there and his lips linger on your forehead in kind. Heartbeats pass and begin to harmonize as your breathes even out and sync together. As you settle, you let yourself enjoy the after- the softness- the gentleness.
Pressing closer to him, the darkness allows you to believe it. Believe that he’s yours, believe that this belongs to you. Believe that he’s someone who genuinely cares for you, cherishes you- loves you, even.
Breathing deep, beneath the sweat and sex, your deprived senses fill in the gaps for your imagination. And the faint scent of sea and smoke settles deep in your chest.
Eyes closing to the blackness, one image comes to mind. One man.
And here, in the dark, in this moment that will never exist beyond this room- you let yourself see it. Let yourself imagine it. Let yourself imagine him here tangled with you-
PAIRING: Sanji/Female Reader. CONTENTS: Non Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, PWP, Oral (f! and m! receiving), Praise Kink, Body Worship, Some Foot Fetish (a little of it, part of the body worship), Creampie, Some blood play, Some Power Play (the reader is a little dominant, but it's nothing too big) WORDCOUNT: 3.9k
Summary:
Ever since you had been intimate together, Sanji had been softer with you.
It was like having a secret language that only you two spoke.
Notes:
This is technically a sequel to this other fic, but you don't need to read it to read this one, you just need to know that sanji and the reader had sex once before!
I love him so much it's crazy... I literally wrote this cause i like to explore this kind of dynamic with him, but also... this is straight up porn lmao
If you have a few bucks to spare, considering buying me a kofi!
You attentively watched Sanji move about the galley as he naturally did every single day. Handing out plates, making sure everyone had their portion for dinner, before even sitting down himself to eat. He settled across from you on the table, and your gaze didn’t drift as his eye met yours. He smiled warmly, knowingly.
Ever since you had been intimate together, Sanji had been softer with you. He had always been nice and attentive, but it was like he had appeased a certain need in him. By all means, he was still overdramatic, professing his adoration for Nami, Robin and you. You figured there was a certain difference only you noticed because it was directed towards you. A slightly bigger portion of food in your plate, a hand on the small of your back when you descended the ship, whispers of ‘are you okay?’ during battles that he wouldn’t let anyone else know.
It wasn’t like you would complain about it; it was nice to be taken care of in such a subtle way by someone who seemed to scatter his affection so freely. It was like having a secret language that only you two spoke.
You returned the smile immediately.
Sanji had satisfied your need for intimacy, but he was also filling other needs when it came to feeling wanted, something that extended outside of the bed (even if technically you two hadn’t shared a bed).
You didn’t want to fuck him so often, somehow that felt like a crossing a fine line that you had created in your mind; but ever since that last time, the urge had steadily grow into something almost all consuming, and you couldn’t wait for the next island for it happen. You needed it now, tonight.
The only way to get some kind of privacy on the Sunny was waiting until midnight. Sanji usually stayed up late, only God knew why. There had been times you wandered in the galley, unable to sleep, only to find him there smoking and drinking tea, and you only smiled fondly as he handed you a cup for yourself.
It wasn’t tea what you were looking for when you walked in the galley later that night, after everyone had gone to bed. Sanji was there, like you knew he’d be, smoking by the table and reading the notebook he kept for his recipes, as you padded across the wooden floor. It was like he was expecting you by the way he smiled, slowly taking you in as you stood next to the table, wearing your sleeping shirt and shorts, feet with only socks to protect them.
“Hello, gorgeous,” He greeted you, putting out his cigarette into an ashtray. “Can’t sleep? Want me to make you something?”
It was moments like those that revealed more of the soft side of him; no loud declarations of love, no theatrics, not even hearts in his eyes. He still smiled affectionately, ready to do whatever whim you had in your mind.
He would get the hearts in his eyes when he saw you naked in a minute.
You pouted, purposely drawing his attention to your lips when you did, and you strode across the room until you were standing right in front of him. Sanji visibly stiffened, breath hitching as he looked up at you.
“I can’t sleep. And I do want something.” You stated, answering his questions, carefully straddling his lap. His one visible eye widened, mouth hanging open as you rested your arms on his shoulders. “I want you to make me come.”
“Now?!”
You sat back on his thighs to look him in the eye, his hands coming up to hold your hips to make sure you didn’t hop off.
“Is there something else you have to do?” Your tone sounded admonishing, and you mentally chastised yourself for acting so demanding. Sanji didn’t seem to mind when his grip on your hips slid up your waist, tightening.
“No, no! I was just-” He heaved a loud sigh, dropping his head forward. “Am I dreaming?”
“No.” You giggled, petting his head and sliding your fingers into his hair.
“Okay, good.”
With a firm tug, you brought his head back up and swiftly connected your lips in a rapturous kiss.
His lips had been on your mind since the first time you kissed him; they were surprisingly soft, a contrast to the taste of his mouth, like smoke and spices. And Sanji was eager, enthusiastic, wrapping his arms around you just in case you decided to reconsider and pull away. You savored each other, tongues intertwining as you tenderly cupped his face.
He only pulled back to trace his lips down your jaw and neck, covering every inch of skin available for him.
“Why did you think you were dreaming?” You asked, humming when he slid his tongue over a spot that made you shiver. You couldn’t help but giggle when he nuzzled there, his stubble creating goosebumps.
“I didn’t even know if what we did that last time was real, it was too good to be true…” His arms around your pressed you even closer as he planted a kiss to your jaw. “I was making sure this wasn’t a dream, just in case.”
Sometimes Sanji was so cute you didn’t know what to do about it, except kiss him until you both were on the verge of death from lack of oxygen. But that would ruin the plans of fucking him that night.
“It’s not a dream.” You reassured him, trailing your nails over the back of his neck to make him feel something real. The shudder that broke through him made you smile.
“How do you want me, my love?”
Sanji’s voice was sultry and silky when he whispered into your ear, like he was pouring your filthiest desires into you but he had only asked a simple question. You’ve never had something like that asked before, and it made heat pool into your abdomen, drenching your panties with your slick.
“Get me on the table.” It sounded more like a question than an order, but Sanji complied without complaining.
Firm hands slid down your thighs, holding you in place as he stood from his seat before carefully hoisting you on the table. You naturally spread your legs, accommodating your body for him to fit where he belonged, pressed up against you with fingers caressing your thighs up to the hem of your shorts.
“You’re so beautiful,” Sanji praised you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Been thinking about you for so long.”
“What kind of thoughts?” You asked with a sigh while he peppered your neck with kisses again. While still fully conscious despite the nice warmth of his body so close to yours, you mindfully moved his notebook and the ashtray to the side.
Sanji kissed under your ear before you pulled away, laying back against the table to enjoy the view of his body hovering above yours. His face was flushed (he might be on the verge of a nosebleed), hair only a little out of place from when you ran your fingers through it, eye blown wide with lust as he studied you.
“Baby, tell me what kind of thoughts.” You said firmly, sliding your hand underneath your shirt, slowly pulling it up your body to reveal more skin.
With a sharp intake of breath, Sanji seemed to have come down to Earth as his gaze fixed on your exposed skin. Licking his lips, his hands skimmed up your waist, joining you in your effort to uncover yourself.
“I’ve been thinking about your body, worshiping it, giving you the attention you deserve.” It was your turn for your breath to hitch at his words, squirming when he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. “I’ve been dying to taste you again. That was a flavor that I would never find anywhere else.”
The lovesick sigh that escaped from Sanji’s mouth against your belly button made you instinctively laugh. He smiled in return against your skin, completely pleased with himself.
“Darling, I want to make you feel so good, please, please, I want to taste you on my tongue again.”
Shit.
You wanted this to be a little quicker, knowing fully well that while a lot of the crew was asleep, not everyone was. You assumed someone (probably Zoro) was on night watch, and Usopp usually stayed up until even later than Sanji doing God knows what. It was a risk to be doing this in the galley, and whatever brain cell you had left after you touched him a few minutes ago was telling you not to drag this out.
But when you felt him kiss the skin just above the waistband of your shorts, running his warm tongue there, you realized you couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no to his eagerness, especially when it involved having his head between your legs. No man had ever begged to eat you out before, and Sanji was setting the bar so high if you ever were to have sex with someone else in the future.
“Go on, then.” You replied, trying not to sound breathlessly desperate but failing.
Sanji didn’t comment on it, only grinning roguishly before going back up to plant a brief kiss on your lips, as if he was thanking you. His gaze fell on your chest as he tenderly lifted your shirt enough to expose your tits.
He groaned when he attached his lips to one of your nipples, sucking softly while cupping your other breast. You sighed blissfully, thighs tensing on each side of him as you felt your pussy get even slicker when he ran his tongue over your sensitive skin.
It was brief, but Sanji tried to give equal attention to both of your tits, switching to your other nipple to press a kiss before licking the underside of your breast and sliding downwards. You weren’t sure if his urgency came from the situation you were in (a quickie in the kitchen), or because he was desperate to get between your legs; either way it made your toes curl, anticipating his touch.
With fingers that tremble with excitement, Sanji pulled down your shorts and underwear, discarding it haphazardly on the floor and leaving you completely bare, the bright light of the galley leaving nothing to his imagination. You only felt a slight of self-consciousness, but the sound that came out of his mouth, frenzied and distraught, made you quickly forget whatever worry that plagued your mind.
“Shit.” He groaned against the skin of your thigh, dragging his lips down, closer to where you needed him most. “You’re heavenly, so tempting, I can’t…”
Whatever else he was going to say died on his throat as he fixed his gaze on your pussy, completely hypnotized.
You impatiently wiggled your hips as Sanji pressed kisses, running his tongue down your thigh until he reached the joint to your hip. With a loud gasp, you jerked up, slick dripping from your entrance the more he stared.
“Sanji.”
He shuddered when you called his name, and he pressed closer, tongue darting out to finally taste you. His hot breath washed over you first, and you quivered the moment the tip of his tongue grazed your pussy. You both moaned simultaneously, loud and needy, and it made the knot in your abdomen twist tighter; to know he was thoroughly enjoying the moment enhanced your pleasure.
Tangling your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face, you watched Sanji steadily eat you out, both eyes now exposed and studying your reactions. He held tightly onto you, firm hands kneading the fat of your thighs as he buried his face in between them. He was eager and so sweet, dragging his tongue from bottom to top before pressing a kiss to your clit, making your thighs on each side of his face twitch. Your jaw hung open when he repeated the same action, licking a bold stripe across your folds, collecting every drop of your slick.
Sanji groaned, louder than the sounds you were making, the deeper his tongue slid inside you. His nose dug into your clit, making jolts of pleasure pulse through you, ripping sharp moans from your throat. You briefly worried that you were both making too much noise, but it was a thought that left your mind as soon as it emerged. It was difficult to be concerned about anything when Sanji had his warm tongue inside you.
One of your legs fell idly to the side when he moved his hand to gently slip two fingers inside you. It made your body grow hotter when he curled them, his intense, lustful gaze fixed on you to check your reaction. It only took a few experimental touches to make you arch your back, and you tugged at his hair when Sanji pressed his digits to the most sensitive spot at the same time he suckled on your clit.
“Fuck!” You stuttered with a gasp when he repeated the same action. “That feels so good, oh my God, you’re so good…”
He only moaned in agreement, steadily pumping his fingers, happily slurping on your clit, devouring you like a starved man. Your skin was ablaze, delight making you vibrate, the muscles of your thighs tightening around his head, they might trap him there forever. By the gleam in his eyes, he might enjoy the idea.
The tension in your body was increasing, and as much as you loved how talented Sanji was with his mouth, this one time you’d much rather come on his cock. With unsteady fingers, you yanked at his hair, hard enough to make him moan, to pull him off you.
“Sa-Sanji, wait…”
He whimpered when he moved away, stars dancing in his eyes in a dazed stare.
“Am I doing it wrong, my darling?”
“N-No…” You panted, enthralled by his appearance. He looked utterly helpless, high on your taste with your arousal dripping from his chin; you could have reached your orgasm there and then. “C’mere.”
Sanji crawled up, pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, making you moan as you tasted yourself in his mouth. You hastily reached for his pants, fondling his erection through the fabric before reaching for the belt. He gasped, hips bucking into your touch. The state you were in didn’t help you in unbuckling his belt, and ultimately his hands joined yours, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock.
When you wrapped your fingers around it, reveling in its warmth and heaviness, Sanji groaned into the kiss, mouth hanging open when you slowly stroked him. His hips jerked again when you flicked your thumb over the slit, precum leaking from the tip instantly.
“Put it in, please.” You begged, pressing one innocent kiss to his lips. “I want your cock, baby…”
Sanji moaned, and you were positive it was because you called him ‘baby’.
Pulling back with a shudder, he gripped your thigh, thumb caressing the skin there as you let go of his dick. He shifted closer, holding his length in his hand as he positioned himself closer to your entrance.
You watched, amazed and breathless, as Sanji eased himself inside you, cock stretching your pussy to make it fit nicely. He made a noise as if he was being tortured, a shaky sigh escaping his lips once he was fully sheathed, thighs twitching on each side of his body due to the wonderful stretch.
It was as if your entire body was on fire, his cock throbbing inside you making the warmth spread. Your gaze locked on his, both of his eyes visible as his hair stuck to his forehead; his body must have felt just as ablaze as yours, the glint in his pupils revealing so much.
Sanji kept his eyes fixed on yours as he moved his hips, slow and steady. The slide was delicious, wet and hot, making you moan as you held tightly onto the edge of the table. The pace was easy, careful, and it still made you feel overwhelmed.
But you wanted more.
“More.” You breathed, eying him through hooded lids.
His response was a snap of his hips, bucking into yours, a yelp slipping from your lips.
“Yes, princess.” Sanji replied, with a grin that might as well come from the devil himself.
It knocked the wind out of you when he pulled back, cock almost all the way out, before sliding back in, hips slamming into yours. It was the perfect rhythm, with enough force that each time his cock filled you, it reached every little spot that made stars dance behind your eyes. You were rendered speechless, eyes dancing behind your lids.
“You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” Sanji panted, a shaky groan slipping from his lips when you squeezed around him just right. “Making all those gorgeous faces, fuck…”
You’d feel your cheeks on fire if they weren’t already burning. His praises really did something to you, stomach turning as pleasure threatened to burst the more his cock hit inside you.
Sanji was smug and confident in the pleasure he was giving you, yet still entirely devoted to you, hands tenderly caressing every inch of your body. Squeezing your waist and stomach, his fingers slid up your thighs, hoisting your legs on his shoulders. There was urgency in his moves when he reached your ankles, swiftly sliding one of your socks off your foot.
A moan wrecked through him when he kissed the heel of your foot, just as the same time he thrust particularly hard into you. You watched, starry-eyed, as he fulfilled one of his dreams he mentioned earlier.
His cock kept fervently sliding in and out, making your pussy clench around it, closer and closer to the edge, as Sanji pressed kisses to your ankle and heel. He hummed in delight as he ran his tongue over the arch of your foot before pressing an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned, completely dazed by his adoration.
“You’re so pretty, my love,” Sanji groaned, looking you in the eye as he kissed your sole. “I need to make you come, I wanna make you come, please, darling…”
Somehow, he pressed even closer, your legs bending over your chest. You let out a shaky moan, the shift in the angle making him grind against your clit with every thrust. You closed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by all the attention and pleasure he was giving you.
Until you felt something warm spilling on your chest. Through a half-closed gaze, you eyed him only to see blood coming out of his nose and onto your tits and shirt. You huffed out a laugh in between whimpers; it was a surprise he hadn’t had a nosebleed sooner.
Sanji cursed under his breath, moving slightly so he wouldn’t get any more blood on you, until you reached up to him, cradling his face with both of your hands. You brought him closer, licking some of the blood that had dripped onto his lips, and moaning into his mouth.
“Sanji, I-” You gasped when your legs started to shudder and your vision got blurrier. “I’m so- Sanji, Sanji-”
You couldn’t finish any sentence, only repeating his name like a chant, but Sanji understood instantly, groaning against your lips the more you moaned his name.
He pumped his hips once, twice, so strong you thought the table was going to break, and you couldn’t contain it anymore when ecstasy pulsed through you, your body quivering uncontrollably as you came. Your mind turned white and he kissed you firmly, sliding his tongue into your mouth, swallowing all the noises you were making.
When your pussy tightened around his cock, Sanji made a strangled noise, hips momentarily falling out of place. He followed suit and his dick throbbed when he reached his orgasm, spilling warm cum inside you, filling you up. He rode out his peak, shallow thrusts making you whimper, too sensitive from your own release. He kept kissing you as if you were air, like he couldn’t live without you.
Your heart melted when he caressed your face once his hips stilled, fingers pushing away all the hair that was sticking to your skin as his lips roamed yours. You hummed, pleasantly exhausted and warm, lazily returning the kiss as your legs dropped from his shoulders to the side. Your hands slid down his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the fabric of the shirt he was still wearing before running your hands up and down his back soothingly.
Sanji only pulled away when he noticed it was getting harder for the both of you to breathe, yet he still trailed kisses down your neck in between pants.
“That was wonderful.” You purred into his ear, feeling the sharp intake of breath it caused. “You’re always so good to me, Sanji.”
He smiled as he nuzzled your neck, placing a kiss under your ear before pulling away.
“I aim to please, my love.”
You knew he was trying to be completely confident (and he probably felt like it) with the winning grin he was showing you, but the flushed look on his cheeks, the little hearts sparkling in his eyes and the blood that still dripped down his nose made it all too funny to be taken seriously.
“There’s still blood on your face!” You mentioned, trying not to laugh as you reached for his face, wiping it away with your thumb.
“You don’t have to do that-” The words died on his throat when you licked the blood off your finger. “What are you doing to me?”
You giggled when he nuzzled your neck, letting out a long sigh, embracing you tightly.
It was sticky and messy, and Sanji seemed to be concerned that you were uncomfortable after a few seconds (your back was starting to hurt, but you didn’t comment on it), so he pulled away, softening cock slipping out and making you whimper. He stared at you, enthralled by the cum slowly dripping out of your pussy, a scene you found all too endearing even when it wasn’t.
As he tucked himself back into his underwear, you sat up and slid off the table, pulling your shirt down and noticing all the blood stains on it.
“I’m sorry, darling.” Sanji apologized, quickly retrieving your panties and kneeling down to ease them up your legs. “I’ll get you a new one, I promise.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll get you anything you want.” He went on, gently sliding the sock he had discarded earlier on your foot before pressing a soft kiss to your knee. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
“You’re so dramatic, honey.” You sighed, trying not to let show how much his words were affecting you.
Sanji showed you a smile so tender it made your stomach twist.
He slid your shorts up your legs and to your waist, hands resting on your hips as he stood up. He was looking at you with such fondness you didn’t know what to do with yourself except kissing him. He met you halfway, lips lovingly pressing to yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
Germa!Sanji / Princess!Reader
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader [No use of y/n]
Summary: You endure the small banquet beneath the rising moon. Processions of the court offer their congratulations on your union- though they speak to the Kings rather than you or your husband. Despite the unsuspecting kindness he shows you, when the moon reaches its crown, the Prince still steals you away into the night- and no one stops him.
CW: Arranged / Forced Marriage, Angst, Protective Sanji, Stoic Sanji
Word Count: 2.6k
CH 3
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Twilight in the garden is lovely. Twinkling lights in the canopy and decorative torches lining the perimeter. Globes of crystal housing newly roused fireflies that cast soft dancing light through the shadows. All the white flowers that made up your bouquet begin to faintly glow under the approaching moon. Red blooms shade violet and violet blooms beckon midnight.
It’s these small beautiful details you force yourself to focus on as you sit by your husband’s right hand at the head of the garden. Close enough that you feel the heat of his body, but not so close as to touch. Sanji sits with the poise of a Prince and the posture of his reputation. So impassive and still, every move he makes causes you to flinch- subtly enough that you hope he doesn’t notice.
Though, it’s quite a small gathering compared to what this sort of ceremony would typically see, there is still a procession of the court come to give their obliged congratulations on your union. None addressed to you personally, however. Vinsmoke Judge sits center of the table- Sanji at his right hand and your father at his left- the two kings taking most of the commendations as if they’d been the ones wedded at the alter.
Politically speaking, you suppose that’s true. Your union is really nothing but a proxy for their own. Chancing a glance up at your husband, you find it difficult to tell if he feels as much a pawn as you do. When the nervous guests pay him their respects, he gives brief, curt, responses that don’t invite conversation.
Hands wringing nervously under the table, you bring them up and grab a fork just keep from rubbing raw. There’s a gorgeous spread of food before you and an untouched plate artfully arranged with a meal that- under any other circumstances- you’d have found appropriately appetizing. Fork in hand, you try to summon any desire to eat, but the sinking feeling of your inner body roils at the very idea of consumption.
Feeling heat at the back of your neck, you glance up- to see Sanji’s eyes quickly dart away from you. Movements deliberately slow he picks up his fork and takes the first bite of his own meal. Though you’re not quite fond of it- his action seems to signal permission for your own body to follow suit and some of the tension eases as you have a taste of your dinner. It’s quite good and instead of settling heavy, it smothers some of the anxiety lingering in your empty stomach. Slowly, you have one small bite after another. Though you can’t handle much before you put down the fork, your hands fold more still in your lap and you do feel slightly- marginally- better.
Until a shrill voice sounds from above and your whole body locks up. “Sister,” it lilts, “congratulations on your nuptials- what a beautiful wedding! Oh, I just teared right up.”
Throat tight, you respond without looking, “thank you, Marcella.”
“You know, I never thought I’d see the day. But, what a blushing bride you make. Such a fine match. There really is no one more deserving, sister.” She looks down on you with a sweet, practiced, smile painted on her lips. To anyone else, it’s the doting chatter of an elder sister. But, you recognize the words for what they are. You’re all too familiar with the cruel twinge of her smile and the wicked crease that hides in the corners of her eyes. “Vinsmoke is just so appropriate for you.”
“Princess Vinsmoke.” Chills crawl down your spine at your husband’s cold voice and Marcella’s expression wavers beneath his hard eyes. “When you speak to my wife, you will address her properly.”
She clings to her courteous facade, “of course, I understand, Prince Vinsmoke. I spoke with too much familiarity,” she tips her head politely, “please forgive me.”
“I will not.” Marcella pales and you forget to breathe.
Sanji stares her down and she begins to unravel before him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Yet, you insult my bride.” Conversation dies. Though, you can’t tell if that’s because everyone has ceased talking or your pounding heart is drowning out the sound.
“I…” she stutters with rising panic, “I only meant to congratulate my sister.”
Sanji’s voice drops deathly low, “and now you insult me.” The weight of every eye lands upon you and the air stills with the death of music and thickens with the reminder of who is sitting at this table.
Never in your life have you seen Marcella afraid. And though there is nothing resembling love between you, in this moment- you’re afraid for her. “I’m very sorry, Prince Vinsmoke,” she bows deeply, eyes downcast and voice trembling.
Heat rises off your husband, “apologize,” he commands, “to my wife.”
“Princess Vinsmoke,” she addresses quickly, bowing to you, “I apologize for insulting you," Her voice trembles, "I am so deeply sorry, Princess Vinsmoke.”
Silence stretches through every agonizing second and you look up at Sanji- to find him looking back at you. Waiting.
With a shuddering breath, your turn towards your trembling, bowing sister, “I forgive you, Marcella.”
“Thank you, Princess Vinsmoke,” her voice is laced with genuine relief, but the lingering terror keeps her folded in place.
“Leave our sight. You’re not welcome here,” Sanji dismisses her and returns to his dinner like he can’t be bothered to entertain the ordeal any longer. Taking his cue, the music slowly begins again- but the guests are still finding their breath.
Marcella rises with wide eyes and looks to your father to defend her as he always has. “Leave, Marcella.” But, not tonight. Not to these men. “You shame yourself. Take your husband home and attend him.” With silent tears and silent lips, she quickly excuses herself from the banquet.
“Children require a firm hand,” you hear Judge tell your father. “I have taught mine the value of discipline. You’d do well to teach yours the same.”
“Of course, you’re right,” he concedes. “Marcella has always been troubled, despite my guidance,” he excuses, despite the fact that Marcella has never done any wrong in his eyes- even when you’d come to him little and weeping from her torment. “That one, though,” your face heats as he gestures towards you, “is my most obedient child of all- always has been.” While you’ve always craved any scrap of praise from your father- you do not feel good about it now. “There will be no trouble with her, I assure you.”
Judge shrugs, “if there is, my son will sort it out,” he says simply. “It’s a husband’s duty to succeed where the father fails.” Without response, Sanji continues to eat his dinner as if he can’t even hear his father speak of him. Noting the vacant look in his eye, you wonder if perhaps he doesn’t.
As the moon creeps higher, so does your anxiety. Any moment now, the banquet will end and you’ll be taken away from the only home you’ve ever known, bound to the whims of a man you don’t. Sipping the water and wishing for wine, you try to subdue your nerves about what’s to come.
“Before we depart,” you jump when Sanji suddenly speaks to you, despite his quiet tone, “is there anything you wish to do?”
Taken by surprise, you find it difficult to hold his gaze as you consider the question. While it seems considerate, you won’t risk inconveniencing him, “no, my Prince.”
But, he doesn’t take his eyes off you- searching your face, “speak truthfully.” The command is soft- but unmistakable.
“I have already said my goodbyes,” you tell him. There’s only one other thing you’d care to do, but you don’t know how to ask for it here. Especially with your father so near.
“State your desire,” Sanji insists firmly, seeing the yearning for what you haven’t spoken.
Quietly, you stare down at your hands, “my father won’t allow it.”
“I will allow it,” he says and your eyes snap up to his.
“There’s… there’s somewhere I’d like to go,” you confess nervously.
Sanji simply stands, “then I will escort you,” pulling out your chair and offering his arm. Hesitantly, you accept it- gathering your dress in the other hand to keep from tripping. No one stops you as you leave- not even your father- or his.
When you’ve stepped out of the crowded garden and onto the quiet path, his voice finds you softly, “guide the way, Princess.”
On the other side of the castle grounds- just beyond the wall- you sit quietly beneath the weeping willow, watching the moon reflect off the still mirror of the lake. Granting you privacy, Sanji waits at the outer gate- so distant you can just make out his form in the torchlight. Utterly still and patient, waiting for your return. It’s a surprising kindness from the Vinsmoke Prince- perhaps a concession as a gift for his new bride. You try not to let it give you any false expectations.
Kneeling in the soft grass, your white dress glows ghostly in the moonlight. “I came to say goodbye,” you whisper to the night- the breeze whispering back. “I’ve been married to a Prince and I’m going to live with him now… I don’t think I’ll be back.” The willow rustles with a weeping hush. “But, I don’t want you to be worried about me. Because I’ll be brave- just like I promised.” The moon ripples over the water and the wind runs gentle fingers through your hair- loosening the coils.
Clouds part above and one by one, little gems are dropped onto the lake- and you hear your mother’s voice over your shoulder.
‘Be brave, Starlight.’
“I thought she might try to come here.”
Sanji waves his hands to signal his soldiers hidden in the shadows to stand down, “were you waiting for her?” He doesn’t take his eyes from your distant figure, even as the woman comes to stand at his side.
“I just wanted to see her- one last time,” she says, hands folded- shoulders back- seemingly unperturbed, even in the presence of a Vinsmoke.
“Do you want to speak to her?” Sanji offers.
“I have said all I needed to.” He feels her gaze slide to him, but he doesn’t return it. “Why did you bring her here?”
“She asked to come.”
She’s quiet for a moment, boldly staring at him. “I love that girl like my own daughter.”
At that, Sanji turns to look at her, “you care for her- you know her?”
“Every day since she was three years old.”
“Will you do something for her?” He asks.
With no hesitation she responds, “I’d do anything for her.”
Sanji nods, snapping his fingers and a soldier appears at the ready. “Take four men,” he orders, “and gather my wife’s things- take them to the villa. Be quick about it, I want everything put away before we get back. The Madam will tell you what to bring.”
“Yes, Master Sanji,” he salutes.
“Whatever you think she’ll want to keep. Anything she’d like to have,” he tells the woman.
She nods, a stern expression taking hold as she prepares herself for the job. “Yes,” she agrees, “I can do that.”
To the soldier, “you will do- and take- whatever the Madam tells you. Don’t kill any castle guards, but do not let them stop you.” Sanji commands. “If you leave anything behind,” he warns, “if my wife cries because something was forgotten, I will hold you personally responsible.”
“I understand, Master Sanji,” he confirms. “We will gather all the Princess’s things. We will leave nothing behind.”
“Let’s go then, I won’t waste time and I won’t tolerate slackers,” before Sanji can say anything else, the woman moves with purpose- dismissing herself and not bothering to bow. The guard raises his hand and signals in the air- four other men quickly falling in step behind him.
The moon has moved considerably by the time you rise. Feeling you’ve had your moment, you don’t want to keep your husband waiting any longer. He’s been patient so far, but you have no desire to test his limits. Only when you step through the curtain of the willow- back towards the castle- does his silhouette move.
Meeting you halfway, Sanji silently offers his arm once more and escorts you back through the gates. The wind follows, chilling with an early breath of winter. Wordlessly, he untangles himself and nimble fingers deftly undo the golden buttons of his jacket. Sanji drapes the velvet comfortably around your shoulders. So broad it practically feels an embrace- your face heating beneath an unfamiliar warmth of intimacy.
Despite the chill in the air and the thin white shirt he wears now, Sanji doesn’t at all seem bothered by the cold. Taking his arm once more, your hand holds your groom’s jacket closed atop your wedding gown- other hand keeping the dress from dragging too much across the ground.
The two of you simply, silently, walk the grounds. Wander through the pathways both inside and out of the gates. Any direction that drew your eye, Sanji steered towards it. Quietly, you indulge the small sights- the crack in the stone at the base of the fountain, vines crawling up the castle, loose cobbles from the weight of wagons rolling through on festive days. The small things- the neglected things- that make a place a home for those who know them. These things, you take care to commit to memory.
Slowly, the sounds of the garden find you once more. Gentle music offers a tender touch before your body tenses with the rise of voices, every step feeling heavier than the last. “Ah, there they are,” Sanji’s father, the loudest of them all. “Off getting to know your bride?” There’s a twist to his smile that mirrors in your stomach as his eyes skim Sanji's jacket still draped over your shoulders. Your husband simply stares at him until the smile tips towards displeasure. “Well, there’s plenty of time for that,” his focus falls upon you and your grip on Sanji’s arm tightens. Sturdy and unyielding, he doesn’t pull away- just lets you anchor yourself against him as your heart threatens to sink. “Take her.” You’re grateful he does, otherwise you may have collapsed right there in the grass.
Spirit sinking- splitting- from your mind, you’re lost in the fog of a dream. The world seems so unreal and you barely feel the movements of your own body as it carries you down the path towards the small dock. There is no music, no sound, no song- only the somber march your husband drags you forward on without faltering a single step. Leading you down to the water, taking his lamb to slaughter. Witnesses flocking steps behind the kings at your back.
Eyes towards the horizon, not even the moon permeates the inky black of the abyssal waters. In the distance, the silhouette of the seafaring kingdom sits colossal and waiting. A leviathan shadow risen from the depths waiting to devour you whole.
Despite your promise, you flinch from the foreboding fate, tearing your arm away and turning on shaking steps. With a voice that calls from every fearful night of adolescence, you reach towards the one person you always prayed would save you from each of them. “Father…”
Swiping your hand away, he answers you with the same voice that responded you back to bed every time. “You are no longer my daughter.”
Nothing but the young woman forced to flower through stone, now nearly to be plucked, asks the one thing the child never could, “was I ever?”
Nothing but a weed in his garden, the King looks upon you with disdain and you have your answer.
“Come, Princess.” Voice soft and hands firm, the Vinsmoke Prince pulls you away and guides you down the dock. You do not fight him as he lifts you into the boat and casts off towards the sea.
More faces appear through the shadows and a song of mourning finds you faintly on the wind as you’re sold and sailed away into the night.
Summary: When Zoro murmurs pure filth into your ear while he's touching you.
Song: Moth To A Flame - The Weeknd
Author’s note: 18+!! If you enjoyed reading this, I’d love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the word! 🫶
The ice in your drink has long since melted, diluting the amber liquid into a pale, lukewarm wash that mirrors the haze of the crowded tavern.
Around you, the celebratory roar of the crew is a chaotic symphony of shattering glass and boastful laughter, but the noise feels distant, muffled by the oppressive heat of a body pressed firmly against your side.
You can feel the rhythmic vibration of a low chuckle against your shoulder, a silent warning that the man currently claiming your personal space has no intention of letting go.
"You're shaking," Zoro murmurs, his voice a gravelly friction against the shell of your ear that sends a sudden, sharp spark down your spine. "Is it the noise of the bar, or are you just realizing how little room you have to move?"
His hand, calloused and heavy from years of gripping steel, has migrated from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest.
The scent of him—salt, old iron, and a sharp hint of sake—wraps around you like a shroud, isolating the two of you in a private, suffocating vacuum despite the crowd.
Every time he shifts, the rough fabric of his clothing grazes you, a tactile reminder that while the rest of the crew is celebrating a victory, Zoro is focused on a very different kind of conquest.
The pressure of his palm increases, fingers splaying wide to anchor you in place as he leans closer, his breath hot and damp against your skin.
He doesn't look at you; instead, his gaze is fixed forward, watching the room with a predator's stillness, though his touch is becoming increasingly possessive.
He begins to whisper, the words shifting from playful observation to a raw, unfiltered stream of filth that makes your blood boil and your breath hitch, stripping away the public veneer of the tavern.
"Tell me," he rasps, the words vibrating deep in your throat, "do you think the others can tell? Do you think Luffy knows exactly where my hand is right now, or how badly I want to drag you out of this noise and ruin you against the nearest wall?"
He lets out a low, jagged sound—half-laugh, half-growl—as he feels the involuntary shudder rack your frame. "You're making it too easy, shaking like a leaf just because I'm talking to you. Imagine what you'll do when I stop talking."
The friction of his thigh sliding between yours is a calculated invasion, a slow, deliberate claim that renders the surrounding celebration irrelevant.
You try to focus on the distant sound of Sanji arguing with Usopp, but the same sound is drowned out by the rhythmic thrum of Zoro's heart beating against your back, a steady, violent tempo.
His touch is no longer just a hold; it is a map, his calloused thumb tracing the delicate line of your hip with a precision that suggests he has memorized every curve of your body in the silence of his own mind.
A sudden crash of a nearby table and a burst of laughter from Franky break the momentary tension, but Zoro doesn't flinch.
Instead, he uses the distraction to shift his grip, his hand sliding further up your side, the rough texture of his palm grazing the thin fabric of your clothes.
He leans in one last time, his lips nearly brushing your earlobe, his voice dropping to a dangerous, velvet whisper that promises a total lack of mercy once the night finally ends.
"Stop trying to look at them," he commands, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire chest. "Your eyes are darting around the room, but you’re not seeing a single thing except me. Do you like it? This little game where you pretend you're just sitting here having a drink while I'm treating you like my own private playground? Because the more you try to fight it, the more I want to see exactly how loud you can get when there's no one around to hear you."
The heat between you has become a physical weight, an invisible tether that pulls you deeper into his orbit.
You attempt to shift away, but the movement only serves to press you tighter against the hard, unyielding line of his thigh, leaving you breathless and stranded.
His breathing has grown heavier, a synchronized rhythm that mirrors the frantic pace of your own heart, and the possessive grip on your hip tightens until it leaves a phantom bruise, a mark of ownership that feels more honest than any word spoken in the room.
Across the tavern, Nami calls out your name, her voice barely piercing the veil of Zoro's intensity.
For a split second, the world outside your immediate proximity flickers back into existence—the smell of fried food, the dim lanterns, the rowdy shouting of pirates—but it feels like a distant memory.
Zoro’s fingers twitch, a sharp, demanding pressure that anchors you back to the present, reminding you that while the crew is celebrating their survival, you are currently trapped in a storm of his making.
"Are you going to answer her, or are you too busy thinking about what I’m doing to you?" he asks, his voice a low, mocking, but strangely tender drawl.
You swallow hard, your voice coming out as a fragile whisper as you tell him he's being too much, that someone will notice.
He lets out a huff of amusement, the sound vibrating directly into your shoulder. "Let them look. Let them wonder why you're breathless. I want them to know you're preoccupied, even if they don't know exactly why."
"You're arrogant," you manage to breathe out, though the way you lean back into him betrays the lie. "Do you always take what you want without asking, or am I just a special case?"
You feel his chest expand with a silent laugh, his grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "I don't ask for things I've already decided are mine," he replies, his voice dropping an octave, "and you've been mine since the moment you looked at me like that."
The conversation dies as his focus shifts, his hand migrating with a sudden, searing boldness to the curve of your thigh.
The shift is abrupt and visceral, a physical punctuation mark to his claim.
He doesn't care that the bar is crowded or that the noise is deafening; he is operating in a vacuum of his own design, where the only thing that exists is the friction between your skin and the heavy, calloused pressure of his palm.
Every small, involuntary sound you make is swallowed by the roar of the tavern, hidden in plain sight.
With a slow, agonizing deliberation, his fingers hook into the thin elastic of your underwear, tugging the fabric aside just enough to create a gateway.
You gasp, a sharp, hitching sound that is lost to the crash of a nearby platter, but Zoro's eyes darken as he feels the jolt of your surprise. He doesn't remove the fabric; he simply navigates it, his middle finger slipping beneath the lace with a predatory precision.
The sensation is jarring—the rough, abrasive texture of the material scraping against your hip while his warm, damp finger finds the center of your heat, plunging into the slickness that had been building since his first whisper.
He doesn't move quickly. Instead, he maintains a steady, rhythmic pressure, his finger curling slightly to find the exact point of your undoing.
The contrast is maddening: the public, noisy chaos of the crew just inches away, and the private, suffocating intimacy of his finger working inside you, hidden by the drape of your clothes and the shadow of his broad frame.
He watches your face with a clinical intensity, tracking the way your eyelids flutter and your lips part, savoring the sheer desperation of your attempt to keep a straight face while he systematically unravels you.
"Look at you," he breathes, the vibration of his voice now a physical current traveling from his chest into your spine. "Trying so hard to play the part of the good crewmate while you're dripping for me right here in the open."
His finger hooks deeper, a sharp, demanding tug that makes your toes curl into the floorboards and your breath hitch in a jagged sob.
He isn't just touching you; he's reminding you of the precariousness of your position, the thrill of being completely exposed to him while remaining invisible to the world.
He shifts his wrist, the movement subtle but devastating, grinding the callus of his knuckle against your clitoris through the thin, damp barrier of the lace.
The friction is a sudden, electric shock that sends a ripple of heat crashing through your lower abdomen, leaving you momentarily blind.
You can feel the slickness of your own arousal coating his skin, a secret lubrication that makes every slide of his finger feel like a slow-motion arson.
He doesn't let up, maintaining a relentless, circling pressure that keeps you poised on a knife's edge of release, his hand acting as a heavy, warm anchor keeping you from floating away into the noise.
The sudden, loud clang of a mug hitting the table beside you makes you jump, and the involuntary spasm of your hips only serves to drive his finger deeper.
Zoro lets out a low, guttural sound—a mix of a growl and a sigh—as he feels the walls of your body clamp tight around him in a desperate, instinctive squeeze.
He doesn't pull back; instead, he uses the momentum to press you harder against the edge of the seat, the hard line of his thigh acting as a brace, pinning you into the epicenter of his focus.
His thumb finds the exterior of your hip, pinning the fabric of your panties firmly against your skin to maximize the friction of his internal movements.
The sensation is suffocatingly concentrated, a singular point of intense, throbbing heat that makes the rest of the room blur into a smear of colors and distorted voices.
He leans in, his teeth grazing the lobe of your ear with a territorial sharpness, his voice now a raw, stripped-back command.
"Don't you dare close your eyes. I want you to see exactly where we are when you finally break."
The sound that escapes you isn't a scream or a word, but a fragmented, visceral moan that vibrates through your diaphragm and dies against the side of his neck.
It is a heavy, humid sound, the same kind of noise a wounded animal makes when it finally stops fighting and gives in. Zoro drinks it in, his chest heaving against your back as he feels the tremor of your climax beginning to ripple through your thighs.
He doesn't give you the mercy of a quick release; instead, he slows his pace to a torturous, agonizing crawl, dragging his finger back just enough to leave you aching before plunging back in with a possessive force that knocks the air from your lungs.
The air in the tavern has grown thick, smelling of stale ale and sweat, but the only atmosphere that matters is the humid microclimate between your legs and his hand.
You are floating in a haze of white noise, the laughter of the crew sounding like it's coming from underwater, while the physical reality of his calloused skin against your slickness is the only thing keeping you grounded.
He shifts his weight, his shoulder pushing you slightly forward so he can get a better angle, his hand now working with a rhythmic, crushing intensity that makes your vision spark.
Just as the tension becomes an unbearable wire about to snap, he abruptly withdraws.
The sudden void is a physical shock, leaving you shivering and hollow, your body instinctively arching toward the empty space he left behind.
He doesn't apologize; he simply lets his hand linger on the surface of your thigh, the heat of his palm seeping through the cloth.
He leans in, his voice a ghost of a whisper, devoid of the mocking tone from before and replaced by something far more dangerous. "Get up. Now."
The command is a trigger, and you find yourself stumbling out of the booth, your legs feeling like wax. Your breath is still coming in shallow, jagged hitches, each one a desperate attempt to reclaim the air he’s stolen from you.
As you move toward the dimly lit corridor leading to the quarters, the friction of your own dampness against your skin is a constant, throbbing reminder of the cliff he’s left you hanging from.
You can hear the heavy, synchronized thud of his boots behind you, a predatory cadence that tells you he isn't planning on letting you catch your breath. . . .
Germa!Sanji / Princess!Reader
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader [No use of y/n]
Summary: After a heartfelt farewell, you meet your husband for the first time- at the marriage alter. Alone, you walk down the aisle, but you will leave it as Princess Vinsmoke. Though, you've never met before, Sanji swears his vows with so much intensity, you nearly believe them.
CW: Angst, Suggestive, Naive Reader, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage,
Word Count: 2.7k
CH 2
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In a small suite, you stare out the window watching the sun slowly dip to golden hour across the pond. Windows closed, despite your request- attendants insisting that the wind may be a detriment to the well placed coils of your hair. Mostly finished, you stare at the masterpiece that’s been made of you for a man you’ve never met.
“You look lovely, Princess,” the seamstress bows her head respectfully, shoulders heavy and exhausted.
Reaching out, you take her hand, “the dress is beautiful.”
Hand squeezing yours, she gives you a sad smile, looking around- though just the two of you remain- before speaking low, “I am sorry I had to make it.”
Chest tightening, you return to your reflection, still holding her hand, “I never thought I would see myself look like this,” you tell her. Never having been given the attention or care of your siblings- never having been adorned by trained hands or painted by practiced fingers. Always simple, always plain, always hidden. “Thank you for showing me, at least this once.”
For the first time in her life, the woman in the mirror looks like a Princess. On the day she bears the weight of a kingdom who barely knew she existed on her shoulders.
It brings some comfort, however small, to know those who had always turned a blind eye to who you are would be forced to see it today. Whether they recognized or cared that you’re being sacrificed for their sake- at least they would see it. At least, finally, no one could deny who you were. Though, what a small consolation when you know you’ll be forgotten as soon as you’re gone.
The door to the suite opens and closes once more and by the sound of her harsh steps, you know who’s arrived. “Oh, my dear,” Mistress Kline sighs with a hand to her chest, “you’re a vision.” Stepping up to you, she holds her hands out in admiration, “a true Princess.” You give her a tight smile, trying not to let your emotions swell up inside.
Turning to the window, she tsks and waves a hand, “so stuffy in here, you need some fresh air.”
“I’ve been told not to suffer the breeze lest it muss my hair,” you tell her.
She unlatches it and throws it open, “if the breeze can ruin your hair then it will never make it down the aisle.” The fresh air hits you, the sweet scent from the garden calming in your lungs. Faintly, you hear music in the distance- it’s nearly time.
“Did…” you summon your words for a question on your heart, “did any of my sisters come by?” already cracking, knowing the answer.
Kline turns to you, hands clasped before her with an impassive expression, “they did not.”
“What about-”
“No one has come,” she cuts you off before you can drag out your own suffering. To the seamstress, she orders, “leave us.”
There’s a twinge in your heart as you look to the one other person who showed up for you. Though, it may not have been by choice, she’s been kind to you. Far kinder than most and far kinder than you would have expected. These past few days, has been the most you’ve spent with another woman your age- perhaps ever.
Though, it’s not decorum or strictly proper, you both lean in and hug. At the foreign feeling of it, you nearly want to collapse, but you don’t. Despite the way Mistress Kline is always harshly strict on etiquette, she doesn’t interrupt the moment. A gift of kindness to you, perhaps. The two of you share one more sad smile in your silent farewell before she departs. You know you’ll never see her again and you send up a prayer to the stars that her life be blessed.
“Do you have any questions,” Kline opens the invitation more gently than you think you’ve ever heard.
“Questions?” your brows furrow at her. Your role has been drilled into you constantly since it was issued. How to walk, where to stand, what to say.
She steps up to you with the stern face of your tutor, but the voice of a mother, “I don’t know if we’ll have another moment, before you’re taken away.” Taken. As if you’re being stolen from her as equally as you are from yourself. “If you have questions about what will happen tonight, now is the time to ask them.”
“Tonight…? Oh,” the rose of you cheeks deepens as you realize what she’s referring to. “Well,” your hands press nervously together, “you explained how it works. I just… I just need to lay there, right?”
Mistress Kline shifts with a nervous energy she quickly tries to suppress. “These Princes are not courtly,” she says simply. “Your husband may make demands of you.”
“What sort of demands?”
She shakes her head, “I cannot say. But, it is important that you do what he tells you,” she stresses. “No matter how debasing you may find it, do not fight him. Do not anger him, understand?” The fear thickens in your gut at the prospect of what you may face.
But, you know her warnings come from a place of concern. The Vinsmoke Princes were, first and foremost- warriors. Just as deadly and just as cruel as their King. That had been made obvious the first moment of their arrival.
Quietly, you ask, “will it hurt?”
“Yes. It likely will,” she answers honestly, never sugarcoating the truths of the world. Never hiding you from the harsher realities. Though, it’s always terrified you, you’ve always appreciated it. “You still practice your meditations?”
“Yes, Mistress Kline,” you respond with the voice of her timid student, “every morning and every evening.”
“Very good. You will continue to do so,” she issues and you nod.
“Have you met him?”
“I have not. I do not know which Prince you will find at the alter today, Princess. Though,” she adds, “I do not think it much matters,” she tells you honestly. “From what I understand, they are equal in their regard.” Equal in their cruelty, she means.
Shaking your head, you take a steadying breath, trying to push it away lest you torture yourself before your husband can. If these were the last hours in which your body would be free, you didn’t want to spend them preemptively commencing your own suffering.
“I have something for you,” Kline says more gently, pulling a small box from her pocket.
“For me?”
“Yes,” she opens it to reveal a golden comb, curved in a wave of the sea, a deep blue sapphire in it’s eye- teeth cast in rays of sunlight.
It nearly steals your breath away, “it’s beautiful.”
“I wore it on my wedding day,” she tells you. “As my mother did. And her mother before her. As you will today. As your own daughter might in the future.”
Eyes widening, your gaze snaps up to hers, “I… I can’t accept something that special.”
With an expression you’ve never seen before, she softly touches your face, “you are the most special girl I’ve ever met.” Eyes fluttering, you desperately try to contain the tears that threaten to tip.
Gently, Mistress Kline turns you towards the mirror and steps up behind you, fingers carefully gathering your hair. “I have tried my best every day to prepare you for this world. Because I knew that one day, you’d step out into it.” You feel her place your veil. “I will tell you the same thing my mother told me. No matter where you go in this world, there will always be the sun and the sea.” She slips in the comb, teeth gently sliding into place. “And where the light meets the water, that is where freedom lives.” Hands at your shoulders, she meets your eyes in the mirror, “and that is where you will find my love for you.”
Placing your mother’s mirror in your hand, she turns you so you can see the comb reflected behind you. “It’s beautiful,” is the only thing you can say, voice thick.
“A crown fit for a true Princess,” she straightens, speaking in that voice that leaves no room for discussion. “For as long as I live, I will not let anyone forget what you have done for them.”
“It wasn’t a choice,” you say quietly.
“Had it been asked of you, would you not have agreed? If told that your marriage would seal the treaty and save the lives of your people, would you have turned your back on it?”
“Of course not,” you answer quickly, as if it were no real question. Because it isn’t. “I would have said yes.” For all the innocent lives, for all the families who loved and lost too much. “It’s not even a question, of course I would do it.” Because despite the fact that you don’t know them and they don’t know you, the people of this kingdom deserve a better fate than what Germa brought to their door. “Anyone would do it.”
“No,” she says, “they wouldn’t have.” Her hands cup your jaw and raise your head, “you are a fine Princess, with the heart of a Queen. I have always known that. Until the day I die, I will make sure everyone I meet knows it too.”
In all the years you have known her, Mistress Kline has never lied or embellished or softened the truths she brought upon you. Even when you wished she would. And you know it has all been for this. So when she told you the one thing she needed you to understand, you would listen and know it true. “Thank you,” you straighten your shoulders, holding yourself the way she taught you a proper Princess should, “for everything.”
She turns you towards your own reflection and- for just a brief moment- you see the woman in the jeweled mirror. “Keep your shoulders back and your head high,” she instructs, voice tipping back to sternness, “do not slouch.”
A knock at the door signals it’s time. “Will you be there?”
“I will be there,” she answers. “Even if you do not see me, I will be there.”
She pulls the veil over your face.
‘Be brave, Starlight.’
Alone, waiting in front of the massive carved door of the sanctuary, the final words your mother left you with in this world replay in your mind. Bouquet of cascading white orchids, lilies, and honeysuckles clasped tightly in your hands- heartbeat drowning out the muffled soft music.
Eyes glancing to the side, you see the open door that leads out through the garden and you briefly wonder what would happen if you bolted through it. But, just as soon as the thought surfaces, do you shake it away. You can’t run. You know what will happen if you do. “Be brave, Starlight,” you repeat to yourself, drawing on your courage.
A flash of pink flits past the corner of your eye, but when you turn towards it- it’s gone. A trick of the light, most likely, the sun now slipping into the golden hour. You’ve no time to ponder it- or anything else- as the wooden doors begin to creek and the music cascades towards you through the gap.
Soft sounds of harps and violins whisper down the aisle strewn with petals, a clear path to the alter you can’t bring yourself to look at. For a moment, under the eyes of the room who all stand at attention- looking at you- you’re completely pinned by the weight of it. Your heart drowns out everything in rising thump-thumps-thumps until-
“Be brave, Starlight,” your courage finds it’s voice, speaking softly behind your veil. Shoulders back, head high, eyes downcast- you step forward. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, watching the sweeping hem of your dress softly pool past the petals. The room is quiet, save for the music, and the air is heavy.
Step by step you advance towards the alter- towards your fate- towards your husband.
Halfway down, you finally summon the bravery to look at him. For the briefest of moments when your gaze meet his, your heart skips and forgets everything but the sun kissed gold of his color and the crystalline blue of his eyes fixed on you. For one blissful second, you feel like a true bride- and though you desperately cling to that feeling, it fades quickly.
His expression is stoic, his body ridged at attention, hands clasped before him. He wears a well tailored- militaristic- suit of deep velvet blue and gold. There’s no expression on his face. No anger or joy. No hatred or love. No rejection or acceptance. Nothing at all. His glacial eyes are completely devoid of anything as they watch you ascend the alter and stand before him.
Yet, up close you can see the sharpness to him. The edge that betrays his nature as a weapon of his kingdom- and you only pray he doesn’t turn the blade towards you. Despite the veil over your face, you can’t help but feel he stares into something deeper when he looks at you, parsing through the hollow spaces in your chest. It makes you feel vulnerable and naked despite the modest drape of your wedding gown.
“You may be seated,” the officiator’s voice echoes in the chamber and the boquet is taken from you. “We are all here today to witness the union of two great kingdoms,” he begins and your mind immediately tries to flit away. When he holds out his hands, palms up, you only stare at them. “Please, join hands,” the officiate speaks again, more softly, directly to you.
Snapping to attention, you gently settle your hands atop his- the touch of your palms is featherlight, but he makes no move to clasp them tighter. You pay attention only enough not miss your cue again, giving your ‘I dos’ whenever prompted.
Only when you finally hear his name does your focus return. “Do you, Vinsmoke Sanji make your vow before gods and kings to take this woman as your wife?”
“I do,” his voice is smooth as liquid night.
“Do you vow to honor her and cherish her and protect her?”
“I do.” Vinsmoke Sanji. Finally, you have the name of the man about to become your husband.
“Will you be her shield and her sword and her watcher in the night?”
“I will,” his eyes hold fast to yours.
“Will you fill her cup when it runs empty, nurture her in sickness, carry her through dangerous passes?”
“I will,” and you cannot look away.
“Do you vow it, Vinsmoke Sanji, before gods and kings to honor this oath through this life and the next, lest your heart meet the sword and your soul meet the fire?”
“I vow it,” the intensity of his voice and his eyes bore into you- the blue sharp and ringed in gold. Heat seeps from his palms to yours and floods in at the eyes, all the way down into your chest. Searing with conviction, you nearly believe that he’ll uphold this most sacred covenant of your kingdom.
Your hands part long enough to be presented the rings. “Let these rings, wheels of fate, symbolize your promise.” Sanji flips his hand and presents it to you, completely steady.
With trembling fingers, you slip the simple golden band onto his, “I bind myself to you.”
Gentle fingers take your hand in his and as he holds it- it stops trembling. With the tenderness of a true husband, he slides the matching ring home, “I bind myself to you.”
“Vinsmoke Sanji, unveil your bride and seal your covenant with a kiss.”
Heart erratic, Sanji takes the hem of your veil and slowly lifts it back. For a moment, he simply looks at you- and you can’t look away. If he’s disappointed in what he sees, he doesn’t show it.
As he bows to your height, nothing else exists in the world. Softly, he presses a single chaste kiss against your lips. Though brief, the warmth lingers. He straightens once more, rising out of his bow as your husband.
The sun reaches the height of its golden hour and the blessed light shines upon you both as you look at one another, your hand still in his.
“Before gods and kings, I pronounce you man and wife. Prince and Princess Vinsmoke.”
[ZoroSan/ZoSan] Zoro x Sanji yaoi BL manga Doujinshi Irohanihoheto by Kyozoya Kunoichi
This unique story is set during the 2-year time skip period when Sanji is training on Momoiro Island in the Kamabakka Kingdom. You’ll see Ivankov and Inazuma warning Sanji not to go into the forest in the north because no man has ever come back. [Spoilers] There lives a creature who lures men into a day dream about their beloved. Once the creature learns the name of your beloved, you will never wake up from the sweet dream. Even though Sanji and Zoro never call each other by name, the creature evokes Sanji’s memories from Skypea to Alabasta and various past moments to try to lure him to call out Zoro’s name. Eventually, Sanji calls out the full name, and… (find out in the story!) Mihawk and Perona make a cameo appearance, too.
Book includes beautiful cover art and a hot color illustration of Zoro. 100 pages from 2014. (More pictures on Poshmark.)
For a brief moment, Sanji thought perhaps Zoro was going to shove something awful into his hand to make him gag or freak out. Not that the swordsman had ever done something like that, but for that brief moment, he might as well have been the kind of person who would have.
"It's some crap I found in the market. Said it was rare or something. Only on this island."
Sanji pursed his lips slightly, sometimes the way that Zoro communicated was truly obnoxious as though speaking beyond the most basic and necessary amount was going to kill him. But, he had done Sanji a favor, a thoughtfulness, and so he didn't want to immediately drop into petty bickering simply because Zoro communicated like a cave man learning the language of its descendants. Besides, though he hadn't meant to be unfair to Zoro, he had been unfair even thinking that he'd do something so cruel for no reason, or at all.
"Do you know the name?" Sanji asked.
Zoro shrugged.
"Right. Well... thanks," he replied and forced a smile. It wasn't hard to force a smile when Sanji was genuinely chuffed at getting a gift of rare edible fruit, but he was still annoyed that the swordsman couldn't be bothered to remember the name or communicate with even ten percent more flourish than a doorknob. Maybe he could stand to ease up on the guy a bit. Then again, it was Zoro. Maybe he deserved a little harsh treatment.
---------------
Sanji leaned over the table to grab something but he just couldn't reach it when Zoro, without missing a beat or even really paying attention, grabbed the bottle Sanji had been reaching for and passed it to him. He didn't mean to wince for a moment, but for a brief second he'd flashed back to being a child and having something he needed or wanted chucked at his head.
"Thanks," Sanji replied.
Zoro eyed him suspiciously. "I wasn't going to throw it at you."
Clearly Zoro had seen Sanji wince which was unfortunate being that it wasn't a conscious reaction. Logically, Sanji knew Zoro wasn't going to chuck something maliciously at Sanji's head. He also knew that Zoro probably felt (rightfully so) offended by Sanji acting like he was going to peg him in the face with a bottle. Sanji knew he should just say sorry and explain that it was just a reaction without any real meaning attached to it, and yet what Sanji knew to be a good choice and what Sanji chose to do instead were not in any form aligned.
"How am I supposed to know what an ape like you is liable to do at any given moment?"
That went over as well as anyone would have suspected it would. Upon reflecting on it after the inevitable brawl that followed, Sanji felt a twinge of remorse. Zoro had shown countless times that for all his rough edges, he was ultimately not a bad person. Refinement, Sanji knew quite well, also didn't mean a person was kind or considerate-- two things that Zoro had shown he ultimately was. He should have apologized instead of making it into a thing. But Sanji should have done a lot of things, shouldn't he have...
---------------
Still yet again, Sanji found himself reacting to Zoro as though he were some representative sent on behalf of his crap birth family to make Sanji's life hell. And yet, the guy had never given him cause, really, to react that way.
He couldn't help but catalogue all the ways that Zoro treated him well to boot. He always handed Sanji things instead of chucking them at him hoping they'd catch him unaware and injure him like his brothers had done when Sanji was a child. If Zoro threw something to Sanji, he waited until Sanji was aware and ready to receive the thing so it wouldn't hit him or hurt him. Zoro didn't mock Sanji for things that were important to him or central to his identity like his relationship and attachment to Zeff, cooking, or the All Blue. Although it's true Zoro wouldn't respect Sanji's adoration of women calling him a creep and a pervert, but that's because Zoro was a loser and too stupid to know that women deserve to be worshipped.
Unlike those people, Zoro seemed to have a soft spot for animals, children and people in general. If he was going to kill an animal for food, he didn't let it suffer needlessly, instead, finding the most efficient and least oppressive way to kill it. If a kid needed help, even if Zoro acted inconvenienced, he'd still help them and try to maintain a calm and cool demeanor while he did. Most notably, Zoro might be upset at Sanji, but he didn't exclude Sanji, didn't try to trap him out of things... if anything, Sanji was the one who was doing all those things to Zoro.
Even when they fought, Zoro only went as far as Sanji was willing to go, it was a reciprocity less a challenge. If it was a challenge at all, it was a kind of practice, a sparring, less a one-sided attack like Sanji had grown up suffering.
Sanji had to admit that Zoro seemed to actually care about him even if Zoro didn't seem to care about him. Even so, Sanji still found himself responding to Zoro how, if he was honest with himself, he would have liked to respond to his brothers. He was cross and mean and violent and petty and disdainful and Zoro just took it or fought it out until they were both over it.
And still... it was a bit unfair, wasn't it?
---------------
"Cook, sake," Zoro said as he burst into the galley.
"Right, let me just drop everything and go make you happy with a bottle of sake you don't even need because you somehow had the ability to string together two words and find your way into my kitchen."
Zoro sighed and Sanji could see him hesitate at the doorway, reconsidering his presence in the space.
"I wouldn't have to ask if you didn't insist on keeping all the sake in the kitchen," Zoro grumbled.
"I don't remember you asking or does barking "Cook! Sake!" all of a sudden count as a question?"
"Fine. May I please have some sake?"
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Sanji replied condescendingly. Zoro frowned in reply. "The answer, by the way, is no."
Sanji knew that he was going to trigger a reaction in Zoro by berating him and then denying his request, and though he didn't want to be cruel, he reveled in the control of it all. He justified it by remarking that Zoro's drinking wasn't healthy or good for him but the excuse was weak because he really just needed to feel like he was the one whose opinion mattered enough to change behaviors. If Zoro would listen and stop drinking, maybe he wasn't so useless that his brothers couldn't have stopped beating Sanji up or his father could have listened and cared for him.
Those thoughts, while controlling his behavior, were barely conscious ones, ruling his moves from the dark. He cringed internally to have behaved so callously and yet he stood his ground, not one to back down after he'd already drawn a line in the sand. Perhaps more accurately, he felt comfortable enough with Zoro to badger him without fear.
"Of course," Zoro growled.
"Yeah. It's my kitchen and I make the rules. Of course of course, moron," Sanji retorted.
"Of course you're going to be like that. It's not your kitchen, it's Luffy's kitchen."
"I'm the cook!"
"And we're all on the same damn ship. I don't know what your damn problem is but I'm tired of it," Zoro snapped.
He moved to go take a bottle of sake from where Sanji stored them which was immediately blocked by Sanji, because of course.
"The hell!" Zoro yelled.
"I said no!"
"Why!"
"Because!"
Their fight went on until they were both breathless and panting. Sanji kicked the door to the wine cabinet open and told Zoro to take a bottle.
"I just don't get you," Zoro said quietly.
"And I don't get you," Sanji replied.
They sat in silence for a moment longer before the need to fill the silence with justifications and rationalizations possessed Sanji.
"You just barge in here demanding stuff, always "cook this" and "eyebrows that" and never once thanking me or telling me my food is good or..."
"You treat me like I'm going to hurt you-- every time I say something, every time I do something... when have I ever given you a reason to think I would do that?"
Zoro looked genuinely hurt as he pushed himself to stand and unfortunately Sanji had nothing to say in reply. Zoro grabbed the bottle of sake and left the galley without saying anything further. Sanji sat there, on the floor, contemplating Zoro's words, actually reflecting on their interactions and the way things had gone. He realized that he was treating him unfairly but there was too much pride he held in his heart to allow room for apology or a true explanation. There were a lot of things that Sanji believed or did as a means to survive that he now realized had probably outlived their usefulness and needed to be addressed and retired.
He vowed that from that point forward, he was going to really pay attention to Zoro's treatment and move with mindfulness. Intention. At least, perhaps, neutrality.
He couldn't have known that this simple shift in intention was going to unlock so much more about himself than he'd thought possible.
chipping in to the vivisection scar!sanji that i saw from @avianhasnodignity!
i think chopper had to have known about the scar's existence, all the way back from pre-ts. i think he saw it back at drum island, and didn't know what it really was until he joins the crew. with how much he has to patch sanji up, he eventually tries to research what could've caused such a precise scar, and when he finds more parallels in old journals, with frogs in place of people, the realistion's just a little too much for him. "i have to ask him about it when he wakes up," he thinks. i think he still tears up about it, too, when no one's looking. he'll keep the secret, for sanji's sake, but he really wishes he didn't have to.
^ wips (yes i cropped it. i will lie and say its for composition reasons and definitely not bcs i didnt want to draw feet today)
✗ Summary: Lost in an annoying town full of annoying good-for-nothing people, Zoro seeks refuge in an odd looking tent, only to find that it belongs to the towns famous match-maker!
✗ Total WC: 7.0K
✗ CW: SMUT! Zoro is in fact an eater, Zoro in disguise? (Not really), Cunnilingus, P in V sex, Soft Zoro (just a lil bit), Most of this is just smut, ZORO UNMATCHED LIBIDO
✗ A/C: This was such a random thought in my head but I feel like I did so well executing it. I’m hoping you guys like it just as much as I liked writing it!
It’s so nice; The Sunny is really living up to its name right now. The fire-y orb in the sky makes his skin impossibly warmer and it feels wonderful. He rests his hands behind his head and his eyes are closed—both eyes.
Even the waters below don’t crash against the boat so harshly. It doesn’t rock the floating chunk of wood so much to the point that it’s unbearable to even rest as he is, like he wants to.
He doesn’t hear any bombarding voices or obnoxiously loud steps or bangs, not that he isn’t used to it, he’ll sleep right through it because he knows it’s just the ruckus and havoc caused by the usual three idiots doing constant idiotic stuff. But there isn’t any alarming or annoying commotion right now and it makes the peace all the more peaceful, if that was possible.
It’s almost too good to be true, he grunts before he has to involuntarily peel his one eye open and scope the scenery out so that he wasn’t missing any secret attack.
Okay…
Fine. Everything’s fine. And he slowly shuts his eye once more.
It’s not like this everyday and Zoro is eternally grateful for this peaceful afternoon.
And rest he does, in pure bliss with the sun shining off of his defined skin with no havoc to be wreaked and no cook to engage in annoying banter with.
For like… 5 minutes.
-
“Zoro! Get up!” Luffy calls, jumping up and down unavoidably disturbing what he yearned for most, “We’re here!”
Welp, all good things must come to an end right?
Even for the time it was, and he knew for a fact that it was still noon, the lights of the town that inhabited the land still somehow illuminated very brightly. A headache. He gets up finally to wake himself up just a little bit more and he looks around to see almost everyone gathered and ready for the next stop. “Zoro! You finally up?”
He stretches his muscles a bit and fixes his yukata as he does so, “Yeah…m’up.” He says, there’s a little tiredness in his voice.
And now as they near the inescapable flashy lights and overly-decorated scene, he feels even less willing to jump off board and continue his travels with the crew. They’ve talked about this place for the past two days, and none of it seemed intriguing in the way they had described it to be.
Nothing intriguing, and nothing worth mentioning the second they make their way back to the ship.
Which is why he’s more than willing to keep watch of it while they do their own little thing.
“You guys can take this one. M’just gonna stay on board for the time being.” He makes an attempt to walk away before Luffy’s already starting his complaints.
“But you can’t! You have to come, it’ll be fuuuuun! Zoroooooooo!” He yells, because when is Luffy ever not yelling, and grabs hold of his muscles from across the ship with his gum-gum powers.
It’s comedic, laughable. Luffy really is persistent, and it’ll surprise many to believe that his persistence is enough to persuade the big, bad swordsman.
“Usopp said that the food here is amazing! Please, you can’t miss out on this one, c’mon!”
It really is Luffy’s word over everything.
Which is why, unfortunately, he has to join them.
-
So much for his long-gone peace. He got lost somewhere along the way.
Straying away from the group after a liquor store caught his eye, the congested area stirred him far from everyone, and now he was here—just roaming. Sure he could’ve started his search back, but he wasn’t necessarily confident in his ability to do it given the many other circumstances he had… unfortunately, put himself through. So he put his faith in fate.
Don’t even get him started on how much livelier the place is too, how is this even a town? It’s small sure, but it’s so bright, it feels like he’s getting flash-banged anytime his eyes look anywhere but the floor. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was some sort of grand city. But Zoro would be lying if he said that it wasn’t decent-looking at the very least, the streets littered with decorations from top to bottom with lanterns and glitter shining so brightly.
It wasn’t completely an eyesore, just maybe the people that inhabited the space, and the overdone style to it.
And in the grand scheme of things, there were perks to the obnoxiously crowded area, it did well to shield his public appearance so many would not recognize him. Nor would they care with the way they practically fixated on everything but.
Arrows pointing here, lights pointing there, it only gets worse when it starts getting dark, his exhaust long fades, replaced with an indescribable frustration. He feels his eye twitch every 2.5 seconds, brows furrowed while he clenches his teeth at the bombarding and invasive illuminating advertisements for shops and restaurants that are literally right there. In front of the store.
“Hey, handsome, need a massage? Ya look pretty tense!”
No thanks.
“Hot dogs! Hot dogs for only 100 berries!”
No thanks.
“Fun for him and her! Come to our store so you and your lady can have a great night together!”
No. Fuckin’. Thank you.
He shakes off the growing frustration that brews within him, his patience runs thin and everyone and everything around him is doing little to compensate. He’s mad that he decided to tag along, because it proved worthless in the end, he got lost and now he has to reap the consequences of this stupid fiasco that Luffy so eagerly dragged him along on.
He sighs, defeat evident in his breath. He tries relaxing his shoulders a bit and without the risk of losing his other eye from how blinding every single thing in his vision is right now; he scans the area to find at least somewhere he can ease his mind.
Something, anything. At this point.
And in little time he spots that something. Between two stores, the left store labeled “WAX-IT-OFF!”, and the right being “Grand Line Finance”. He snorts. The complete irony and comedy within the two differing stores humors him but it quickly subsides once he sees what confuses him; it’s an almost igloo-shaped tent. Hm, he says to himself. He naturally gravitates towards it, or unnaturally almost. It’s quite unlike him to let his curiosity get the better of him.
The tent is covered by a velvet fabric and there’s a purple-ish pink light coming from the inside, and for a tent—it’s quite large—fit to house at least 10 people at a time. He doesn’t notice it then but there’s a line that’s already formed, and he waltz’ right on ahead almost as if he owned the huge sphere covered in blankets itself, ignoring the complaints of the crowded line that had been apparently waiting there for quite a while, they express their verbal insults and trash-talk alike towards Zoro.
They don’t do much to hold him back, though.
When he reveals the other side of the curtain, eager to see just what had been waiting, it was far more relaxed, an almost seductive energy that welcomed him. One thing he did realize, was how much more quiet it had become. His once tense muscles immediately unclench at the tranquil setting around him. His hear pears left and right to find that it was just as predictable as the outside was, but that wasn’t to say he was disappointed, quite the opposite.
“Sir, are you next up?” He looks around to see where the voice comes from, and he’s a little confused. “Down here, ya big oaf!” His returned peacefulness is quickly disturbed.
He looks down and it’s a man half his size, he had a weird looking hat and glasses that didn’t let him see behind them. He has a badge that reads “RIO” in bold letters, what Zoro assumes to be his name.
“Are you here to see Lady match-maker or not? She doesn’t have much time to wait!” The man half his size grabs hold of his muscular hand and he just follows. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t understand how. Typically if it were anything or any other circumstance he’d probably just get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t sense any kind of danger. Not when his only opponent is a 3-foot man and the inside of this new found tent was so comfy.
And—what did he say about a match-maker?
The odd looking fellow practically has to drag him full force across the room and to expose to Zoro another curtain.
Presumably what Zoro thinks might be, “the match-maker”.
He’s got a bad feeling about this, not the sort of enemy territory feeling but a cringy uncomfortable and dumb feeling.
The shorty speaks, “You have ten minutes.” He unveils the curtain and pushes Zoro, or, tries to push Zoro in, but he doesn’t actually step in unless it’s under his own volition because he’s so heavy. When he does; he drinks in the entire scene in front of him, somehow even more glittery fabrics and silky blankets draped across and on top of one another, a table smack dab in the center with someone behind it.
Lo and behold, you—the uh… the match… making—maker. Yeah.
The small guy leaves Zoro’s sight and leaves him under your supervision.
And God, are you beautiful. A lot like your enclosed environment you wore a seemingly large robe that covers a lot of the floor almost acting as a sheet itself. It’s nicely coated around your body, the only skin on you that isn’t modestly covered is your neck and cleavage area and he doesn’t necessarily make his roaming eyes a secret.
And when you speak, “Hello, you can take a seat anywhere.” Your voice is smooth, and the more he takes you in is the more he falls into a sort of hypnosis. You giggle at the tension so prominently visible in his figure, “No need to be shy. Take a seat anywhere.
He snaps out of the trance you didn’t even know you put him in, or maybe you did. Who knows, he sits across from you with his legs crossed into each other and his hands laid onto his lap with a posture that you almost envy, you appreciate his formality.
And he’s just thinking about how amazing it would probably be to fall asleep in here, possibly with you.
It’s at this point that Zoro realizes that he hasn’t talked the whole time, but he makes little effort for his lack of speech until it’s you who breaks the silence.
“First, your name?”
He prepares his voice with a clearing of his throat, “Zo—” Oh wait, shit. He mentally face palms, but is quick to recollect himself. He quickly comes up with a name as a means to cover-up his true identity.
“Zorayo.”
Your brows furrow like you don’t buy it and his heart stops for the slightest second. “Zorayo?”
He feels so awkward right now. “Yeah… Zorayo.”
“Mmm, that sounds a lot like that infamous pirate-hunter… what was his name? Rorono… Roroyoa?” You think long and hard, “Roronoa Zoro!”
He clears his throat with an eye anywhere but yours. “Uh, yeah. I get that. A lot.” With a slight nod.
You scribble something down in your notes, he assumes to be his half-ass attempt at a name. He really hopes he’s not red, because everything about this is just plain embarrassing. If what he assumes about you being a “match-maker” is true and if anyone on the crew saw him coming out of this place, he doesn’t think he’d hear the end of it.
“You don’t happen to be a pirate yourself, do you?” At this, he tenses once again, “You’ve got the look.” He’s a bit taken aback, but as he scans your face for some sort of discomfort or distress, he’s even more surprised at how okay you are with the fact.
You’re not looking at him, instead you’re scribbling something down. You have been this whole time, hardly looking at him.
Yet somehow, the next words to come out of your mouth are, “I find it difficult to believe that you’re really here for match-making, Zorayo.” You drop your pen and rest your chin on both your hands, “What really brings you?”
He grunts, closes his eyes, and inhales. He’s trying to formulate up a lie, but it’s hard when you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are staring into his soul, he’s never seen anything like it. “No, I am. My friends… said that I needed to find a woman. B-But really I just wanna get laid.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his answer disappointed you a bit. “Y’know, if that’s an option.” Your hands come down and grip the pen once more to write down a few notes, and he can’t help from tapping on his knee a little bit now. His answer was shallow, desperate, and far from him, and he doesn’t understand why it bothered him to care about how you perceived it.
You let a silence linger for a bit as you bring the pen to your lips and tap it a few times, “What’s your ideal type?” You ask.
He shakes his head, “S’what I’m trying to figure out, woman.” He snorts, and your face returns with an almost bothered look.
You roll your eyes and rest the metal pen down harshly, “Do you actually wanna get ‘laid’?” You ask him almost rhetorically and using his vulgarities against him, “Then don’t be a smart ass.” You mumble under your breath, God, you pirates.
Once again, he’s taken aback by the sheer bluntness in your claim, and he’s almost offended. He gulps, he’s not nervous. Can’t be.
“Why do you assume I’m a pirate?” He exclaims in genuine confusion. “Look at you!” To emphasize your claim you extend your hand in reference to the big muscular and scarred man, “And besides, you’re not the only one who’s ever come to me for my assistance.”
He almost wants to mirror your previous eye roll, assistance?
Almost sounds like he’s having trouble getting his dick wet.
And, well—It looks that way, and he wants to crawl in a hole, anyone other than the one he was kinda already in, because of how utterly shameful this is to him.
Thankfully or not-so-thankfully you break the silence, “You have 6 minutes on the clock, mister. Better make it worth while.”
If he were being honest, all he wanted to do was just rest across the shiny blankets that littered the entire place, even if it meant he had to threaten everyone outside in line in order to get it. And he curses himself for getting into this predicament.
Speaking of outside, he did not want to go back anytime soon. The disgusting, flashy and flamboyant, utterly obnoxious, did he mention disgusting?—Outside.
Well, here goes nothing.
Zoro thinks on his response for you, he wants to make it so that it gives you at least something to work with, but not so much that it sounds tender or anything like that.
“I like women who know what they’re about. Not the shy type. I like ‘em when they can fend for themselves.” He nods in confirmation, satisfied with his own proclamation.
And you seem to be as well. There it is. Now we’re talkin’.
You scribble down on your notes once again, more impressed and relaxed by his revelation, it’s not much but it’s progress. “Anything… physical?”
“Mmm… physical?” He pans his vision from the soft scenery to you, “not… not necessarily.” He’s back to ogling you again.
You scribble, “Okay, Zorayo… You don’t like short hair? Long hair?”
You’re not met with a response, and when you look up, Zoro is still there, just with his unwavering gaze set on you, or more accurately—gaze fixed on your body, like he’s checking you out.
“Zorayo?”
He shakes his head as if to shake away unwanted thoughts. “Oh— Um. No. Yes. I mean, listen, S’long as she’s not ugly.”
Ugh, where have I heard that a gazillion times before.
Men.
“How am I supposed to identify that if you won’t tell me what you find physically attractive?!” The tip of your fingers are white from your grip.
Clients are difficult, clients are stubborn, and it’s not like you haven’t come across a guy like this once in a while, but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that it was annoying as hell every. Single. Time.
You breathe, “Zorayo, full transparency.” You place your fingers on your chest to mark sincerity, your tone is softer. “I think you are attractive, I believe you’ll find no trouble in getting a girl in that department. I sense that you don’t often make the first move, and because of your naturally intimidating nature, it’s like a double-edged sword. Women won’t approach you.” You empathetically state. He just listens.
You ponder on your next word-choice as to not offend him if you had already, “it’s only difficult because you make it difficult. I assure you, you would have girls falling at your feet if you were just a little more… giving?” You finish with hope that he understands your meaning.
You can tell he absorbs your words a bit, and it’s definitely progress from where you started. You rest your shoulders in a bit of relief to find that he finally might seek that inner peace and comprehension, understanding maybe why he might be feeling so defeated in the romance department. You weren’t a match-maker for nothing, right?
He puts his finger on his chin, and the smallest tiniest smile graces his face.
“Well f’thats the case, why don’t you just sleep with me?”
“That’s great, Zo—Huh?” Your eyes are shot wide open, and you look at him in pure disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “How could you even suggest something so inconsiderate and vulgar? I have clients that are patiently waiting outside!”
He snorts, “They can always wait.” His smirk gets wider, his eyes a little darker. You gasp, or scoff—you don’t know what it is. You’re so blown away by the fact that he’d request something so dirty and scandalous. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m not one for the taking, idiot! I am the match-maker, not the matched.”
He becomes more relaxed in his posture, his hands are grounded to the floor behind him to act as balance, “Is it against the rules or somethin’? Like ya can’t get fucked?”
Oh, he’s getting so much more vulgar, and… for some reason, it’s… turning you on a bit. And he looks unbothered, almost bored at your fit. You’re red, you’re red all over. It’s bad. This is bad for you. Usually you’re not the flustered one, and sure clients will come in with their occasional flirting and advances. But this?
This is too advance.
“Zo… Zorayo—I can’t possibly…” you close your eyes as you look away from him and shamefully pull your face away from his direction. But he’s not hearing a no, which is something he’d assume you would have verbally expressed by now. And… sure. He was attractive, very visibly, audibly… verbally so. It’s not something you lied about with clients, which is why you were not sold on the fact that he needed any help finding the perfect woman for he in fact, was sculpted by the Gods themselves.
He takes it upon himself to get up, walk over to your side while you wallow in your state of shamefulness and whatever it is that you’re so worked up about. He’s slow in his movement, calculated to see how you’d react if he got anymore closer to you to ensure that what he was about to do wasn’t one-sided and you weren’t actually against the concept.
He kneels at your side and his hand finds its way to your lap, you yelp a bit at the sudden contact. You’re so ashamed right now, so red.
Then it dawns on him, you poor thing. He smiles sadistically. It hits so quickly by the way you react at his physical advance, that you yourself are not being taken care of. The woman who has set up many couples for life? The woman who has brought people to fate and great happiness? But herself? The smile on his face grows a little bit wider, and his hand snakes to your chin, an attempt that you almost melt into too easily. He gets closer to your face. You’re finally looking at him, and he waits for the green light.
“I’ll… I’ll tell Rio to close up for the n-night.”
He’s satisfied, “Good girl.”
You drag your knees across the covered floor as you make your way to the covers, your hands are shaking—with excitement or anxiety, maybe both. You don’t know. You fix yourself, pull the covers in hopes of only revealing your own flushed face and there he was, patiently waiting for your signature cue.
“Rio, there’s a bit of an issue.”
The short man immediately responds, “What is it, my lady?” He sounds a little alarmed so you assure, “I’ll have to reject my services for the rest of the night…”
“T-This one’s… a special case.” You feign a soft smile.
He seems confused a tad, because there’s never an instance where you’ve felt the desire to put such an abrupt stop to your services. A special case? That makes him visibly more confused, but he’s confident in your skill and trusts that you understand what you’re doing. “Understood, Miss. I’ll leave you to it while I fight off those desperate dogs outside.” He laughs at his joke and turns his back to you. You manage a small thank you.
You were confident in his ability in doing so, though he be small he was quite fierce. When the coast was clear and you hear your assistants muffled yells to the stubborn customers, you slowly cover back the space leaving you to the muscled beast, alone once again.
You turn to him, “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t had sex in a while, so you’re gonna need to prep me.” You make work of the robe that’s snug tightly around your waist.
He scoffs, as if offended by your request, “‘Thout question.”
You furrow your brows, “Don’t get cocky on me now, it’s you who needs to get laid.” And you instantly regret the words that come out of your mouth, because now he’s giving you daggers for eyes. He gestures you over nonetheless, and you crawl over to him with no question, now it’s as if you’re entranced by the green-haired man, he’s handsome—beautiful almost, it doesn’t take much will-power to follow his fingers that beckon you over.
“A-And, you can’t be too rough.”
“That’s fine.”
“—And we stop when I say so.” He nods in respect, huh, easier than you thought.
After the knot of your robe was undone, and it feels like it was forever til you got it, you reveal a loose and simple dress underneath and he doesn’t exactly make his appeal towards you discreet.
But it dawns on you, because you haven’t done this in what feels like an eternity that you literally don’t know what to do, let alone with someone so… large?
“How do you wanna…” you gulp and pick at your nails in nervousness.
“Jeez, woman. You a virgin or somethin’?” Well, right now you might as well be. He gets up from his seated position and stands on his knees, “Lay down on the table.”
It’s probably for the better that he’s in control of everything you both do, you’ve already laid out the ground rules of what he can or can’t do, and it’s only really up from here. You do as he instructs, not too eagerly, not too anxiously and you can say that you were satisfied with the way you carried yourself thus far. You just really really hope he can’t tell that you need this as much as he might.
You sit on your little table, and he’s kneeling in front of you.
He’s impossibly bigger.
He grabs ahold of your thighs, almost letting his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your short dress and you shiver in immediate reaction. His hands are so warm, and you can’t help but put your smaller one on top of his.
He takes it as a sign to let his face come closer to yours, and you could almost call him a romantic; the way he tilts his head and his eye is half-shut, he leans in almost too slow for your liking, but his lips meet yours anyways. He almost made you feel like you had to earn it.
When your lips touched, it takes you by surprise to learn that they’re much softer than they look, and he’s skilled—he comes closer, his fingers glide up to your hips and underneath your last piece of large coverage, he grips a little tighter but not uncomfortably so, and his tongue swipes across your lip almost as if to ask for permission to enter.
—And enter it does, you whimper pathetically into his attack and it’s getting very hot. Be it his body temperature or how much you’ve moved within the past 5 minutes within such a tight space, it’s inevitably warmer in your familiar environment. You wonder, is he this good at everything?
Only one way to find out.
“Lie down on your back.” He commands as he pulls away, and you oblige. On your back you get a better look at his figure that looks like it’s about to eat you alive. It’s technically what you want right now, anyway. He hooks his thick finger into your panties and pulls them down. For the first time you hear a satisfied grunt leave his mouth, he’s been damn near non-verbal this entire time so it feels like a little prize when he does.
He throws your undergarment to the side but never strips his stare away from you, “This all for me?” That smirk returns, he takes his middle finger and starts pressing it up and down your cunt that draws another whimper out of you. You think he’s referencing the wetness, and it’s kind of embarrassing.
He laughs at your sudden inability to talk back.
“J-Just get it over with.” You say, you don’t realize it until then but you’re gripping the edge of the table almost like you’re bracing for some sort of impact, perhaps you were just that nervous, would he really be gentle like he promised? He looks down at you, and your body immediately softens, he doesn’t look so mean or aggressive at this moment.
He glides his hands up to the back of your knees and presses them impossibly up to your chest and it confuses you for a split second. He dips down immediately and flattens his tongue almost down from your asshole and all the way up to your clit. Your body flinches a bit and you seethe.
Just when you thought he might have been setting the pace nice and sensually slow, he immediately goes to town, sucking and licking at your pussy like a man starved. You whimper his fake name.
He cringes at the name a little bit, but it instantly subsides when he realizes just how good your cunt tastes. He makes quick work of adding a finger inside whilst his tongue continues a nice attack on your clit. You’re in another dimension at this point. This position was so vulnerable, so open and you now understand why he decided that it was best to start like this.
Another finger joins in, and the way your pussy sounds is pornographic—his bulge grows impossibly bigger and he catches himself from moaning as a blanket softly touches his sensitive area. He’s enjoying this way more than he thought he would. As a matter of fact, Zoro forgets why he was even here in the first place, not that he cares but—wow, what a prize you were. If getting lost meant this was what welcomed him on the other side every time, he’d have to try it a lot more.
You’re gone, understandably so. “It’s—soooo goood, mmmm…” you curse and whine at his fast pace, “‘Think m’gonna—!”
And like manifestation you cum, it hits so much harder than you think it will and the come-down is so much slower than you anticipated.
His fingers and tongue fuck you through it but not unbearably, he pulls his fingers out and glides them up and down your slit as he watches your face contort into a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. He lets you come down from your amazing high before he’s bringing your body closer to him by a latch of your hips, “That feel good baby?” He says in a husky voice, kissing up and down your neck and all you can manage is a whiny mhm! before he’s pulling off his yukata and leaving you speechless.
You softly moan at his bare physique, the little window of his chest doesn’t do it any justice—it’s much better than you expected it to be, much larger too and his cock is damn near screaming to come out just by the looks of it stretching the material out.
You pick yourself up with all the strength from your arms and try to get your dress off, and he watches you struggle for a moment before, “Here, let me—” and in little effort, he pulls it over your head.
He looks you up and down, and it goes straight to your throbbing cunt once again. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You lay down again but this time pushing yourself up just a little bit by your elbows, just to get a glance at the action.
“You want me to take care of you, doll? Huh?” Zoro pulls his own undergarments down, revealing what you’ve been aching for this entire time. “A shame, no one thought to ever take your feelings into consideration.” He gives himself a few strokes as he lines himself up, then slowly pushes into you. He sighs at the stretch, and the way it slowly and surely disappears into you. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well. Just like you should.”
Your eyebrows instantly smash together with your mouth hanging open, eyes squinted just the perfect amount. Zoro groans, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, hm? You want me to keep going?”
“Y-es, yes please! Need it bad!”
And since you asked so nicely, he gives a little push in and out, it makes you moan so desperately that one of your hands clenches within itself from how shameful the nature of it truly was.
And you’re so sure that even with the unnecessary amount of coverage the tent has, someone’s probably heard you if they were close enough. You should be ashamed of yourself; getting slutted out like you were some sort of cock-sleeve. No man has ever made you feel this full, so anyone curious enough to get up close was just gonna have to put up with how much of a whore you sounded like right now.
He picks up his pace and it’s not relentlessly fast or painfully slow, it was just right and you think you might be on Cloud 9 with the way the thing glides in and out of your once neglected cunt.
“Tell me how much you like it, doll.” His head is tilted and his gaze is marked with nothing but lust.
“It feels s-so… so good. Feels like nothing I ever felt before— fuck!” You grab hold of the edge of the table and any loose blanket in close proximity. “More, please! More Zorayo!” And he was so lost in his own pleasure that he’s long forgotten about that dumb name he decided to give you.
“J…Just call me Zoro.” He says breathlessly, pace never faltering.
Well, must’ve been as good a time as any to have told you that, because you really didn’t seem to care, maybe too cock-drunk to even think about it enough. And honestly Zoro himself doesn’t either, with the way your tits bounce with every time he pounds into you, you look like you’re in another world and he’s soon to join you.
You’re moaning, then it turns into soft little cries and whimpers and that’s when Zoro knows that you’re on close approach.
“Let it out, baby. Like that.” His own thrusts are a little sloppy and he’s watching your every expression with close examination. “Juuust like that, s-shit.” The way he talks you through it, his grip on your skin and the skin-ship itself—it’s so much, it pushes you over the edge. With a cry of his actual name this time, which sounds so much better and allows him to relish in his own bliss fully, you cum, and it’s even better than the last.
Your body shakes with every thrust that goes in and out, in and out while Zoro chases his own high, his body shivers a little bit and he finally pulls out when he knows the exact moment he might accidentally fuck his release into you. He pushes your legs coated with slick tightly together, then starts to thrust into your thighs, the scene is disgustingly lewd; he’s using you to get off with your own body but oh well, he’s not pushing his seed inside of you and that’s what counts.
He paints your stomach with all different kinds of strokes and you’re a living breathing mess, there’s so many fluids coating your body that you can hardly tell which is which aside from the one on your stomach, you’re tired to say the least. But you’re still aching.
You’re aching for him, in specific. It’s not enough, and after tonight you don’t think it’ll ever be enough, he’s too good. Too skilled for his own good and you can’t stop wanting him. “Zoro, *breath* n-need *breath* more.” You manage to say as you try leveling yourself. “Need more of your cock, ple—ase!”
And all you had to do was ask.
He picks you up a little and off the table with your assistance, grounding your body on the floor next to it, that way Zoro can get in a more intimate position he’d hoped for all along. His body on yours, in whatever way you’ll allow him to take you. It sounds like a dream.
You claw at his bicep while he hovers over you, and it feels like he hasn’t kissed you in forever. He comes down to meet your lips once again, shaft in hand and again, lining himself up. Only this time as a warning Zoro rubs himself up and down before entering you with a slow push. You manage a “Mmmfffhh!” At the intrusion, but you welcome it anyways. He starts his pace like the last.
There’s something different about it though, it might be the intimacy and just how close you guys seem to be this time around, you’re wrapping yourself around him like he was your life-line. You have your hands tight around his shoulders with your legs hanging off his hips for support while they rock into you with much force to accompany it.
He’s just as gone as you are, his cock is hitting you in the deepest places he couldn’t have imagined. “You’re… so good for me, s’like you’re mine. Letting me fuck you like th—is.” He says with a groan following suit, “You like getting spoiled like this, baby?”
Your eyes are shut tight and you’re dizzy, “Mhm! O—Only by you! J-Just by you Zoro!”
Now it might’ve been the heat of the room, but you feel so impossibly wet, all over. And it’s proven in the way that the blankets surrounding you are slowly getting drenched with your sweat amongst many other things, you’re a bit ashamed for a second, you wonder how you’ll clean it up.
That thought gets thrown out the window the faster it comes in through it, Zoro hits a spot you were all too familiar with and you cry out. “Oooooooh… fuck… yesyesyesyesyes—” You chant his name like your life depended on it, and he feels like he could just explode right then. He’s so enamored by you, the way your sweat accentuated every beautiful thing about you and it sends him into overdrive, he promised not to get rough but it’s impossible. His hips are automatic in that sense, he just wants to ruin you.
You don’t seem to mind the change in pace, how rough he fucks you, though. “Y-Yes, like that, don’t. Fucking. Stop.” You welcome it if anything.
He laughs at your change of heart, “M…not planning to, doll.”
And almost as if you’re trying to choke around him, it’s dangerously tight, and with every thrust it feels almost impossible going back in—it’s like he can’t imagine that this feels good for you but your face truly begs to differ. You stare at him with so much desire in your eyes and your body naturally pleads for more, bucking hips and arms like you never wanna let go. Zoro doesn’t even remember what drove him to come here in the first place, but he can’t imagine a better outcome—a doll like you, sweet and willing to let him fuck you in any position he wished. God, he almost wants to steal you away from this loser town and have you all to himself.
He feels himself dangerously closer this time, all the more sensitive. And without your audible declarations, he thinks he might cum before you.
He brings his thumb to your clit and starts his circular motion before coming down to kiss you gently, muffling your sweet sounds while you wrap your hands around his neck. Everything about this screams intimate, if it wasn’t for how rough he’d have been going you would have thought he was making love to you.
You gasp for air as your orgasm quickly reigns down on you for the third time, his strokes are a little bit sloppier and he’s instantly pulling out to once again; cumming on your stomach.
It’s quiet for a while save for the sighs and heavy breaths that leave both your throats, he’s leaning back off of his heel to get a good look at you after damn near ravaging you. He’s content, but he genuinely believes he could go for another couple more rounds. Your laid on your side, eyes closed and relaxed.
Zoro turns you back onto your position before and takes a nearby piece of cloth that is to no surprise nearby, to wipe off your stomach, “Bailin’ on me already?” He says, it’s playful but he’s as a serious as you’ll let him be. He’s still half hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop anytime soon.
“How many rounds can you go, you beast?” You ask trying to sit up off of your elbows once again.
“Bout as many as you can take.”
-
And take you do, the brute man fucks you through all the rest of the continuous rounds. Slow, hard, soft—just when you think you might not be able to withstand the next one, all it takes is a glance at his hungry eyes and you’re back under his wrath, it’s pathetic almost and you should be ashamed, but it feels euphoric.
You realize about half-way through it all that you’re not fucking just anyone, but the Roronoa Zoro. The man with a billion dollar bounty on his head. It should make you stop. Shouldn’t it? You should put an end to this scandal before someone finds you out, the second it dawns on you.
And you’ll take it to the grave; the truth is that it made you so much more hungrier for him. You, a mere civilian amongst a no-name town that many along the Grand Line used as a means to kick their feet up and relax, so small and irrelevant… are fucking one of the most dangerous men across the 4 seas?
Why, it was nothing but fuel to you. To go harder, faster, just for him. Just to impress him and make him feel like you were the only one for him.
The last round is when he ruthlessly suggests that you ride his dick, you could tell that he was getting off on the idea of you being so desperate for his cock and trying to muster up any will-power to drag yourself up and down. It was comedic really, you were crying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even though your thighs were so painfully sore. It almost felt like a drug.
Along the way he decides that he’s bored with the theatrics and pulls you down just to fuck up into you. And the way you came just felt as good as the last. You pulled off of him and rubbed your slit onto his shaft while he came as well.
Now with him sprawled against the bedded floor with him on top of you, it’s boiling in the room now, you might even slide off of him because of how wet you both are. Lewd, dirty, disgusting. But if no one’s outside with pitchforks and fire the way you chanted his unmistakable name, you’d say you weren’t too loud. Maybe.
“So, d’you think I found my match?” He says, and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from you.
“Not yet.” You lay your head against his wet chest, “You’re gonna have to keep looking. Plenty of fish in the sea.”
His chest vibrates against your head with a big hum, “Not worth my while, not as good a fish as you.”
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