i want soft dom reader with sanji. i just wanna call him pet names and give him compliments so he believes it for once, all while hes destroying my insides ofc
Sanji x Reader 🔞 (smutt with plot)
A/N: HII i’m back! For some reason i have a lot of ideas for this fanfic. so i decided to split this into 2 parts. because it was already 19k words until i had to shorten it LMAO please note this is the first part. so things will start spurring up in part 2 which i already have a good chunk of it done, just please be patient! <3
CW, this fic will contain nsfw mixed with angst… (also the use of “y/n” i try my best not to use it but i had to.)
Sanji’s back on the ship now. You and the Strawhats are heading to Wano. But something’s wrong with Sanji. He hides it well from the others, but it’s clear that you and Luffy can tell something’s off. He’s more distant. I mean, who can blame him? Having to go back to your abusive family after years of trying to forget the horrible things that happened to you? That’s a kind of pain you couldn’t even imagine.
But still it hurt you to see Sanji so depressed.
Once a cook who was happy and always ready for anything, he’s turned into someone who seems chained to the kitchen. Cooking being one of his coping mechanisms, of course he’ll give the crew random dishes, even though none of them asked for dinner yet…
“Thanks, Sanji!” the others will cheer, seeing the delicious plate in front of them. So many different dishes, ones that originated from all over. A lot of them looked rich, complicated, and honestly, it was kind of clear he was going through something. The harder the dish, the more his heart must have ached over what happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the words his father spat at him before he left that island. Wounds he thought were healed, buried—just seemed to rip open again the moment he was forced to face the truth about his past.
Every time Sanji closed his eyes, all he could see were his brothers laughing at him. Bound in that cage. That damn metal helmet forced on his head. The hopelessness he felt when they said he was weaker than them. Not like he didn’t know that already. Of course he knew.
It’s all they ever said to him, every day, just to break him.
He was cooking all day. He’s tired. His hands feel kind of weak now. It’s like he’s made every dish you could possibly think of for his friends. The sink had a couple of plates, forks, butter knives in it. When he turned around, he saw the mess he made himself. Pots. Bigger spoons. Tools scattered everywhere. He sighed at the sight. Rolling up his sleeves, his hands moved numbly grabbing the sponge and soap. He picked up a plate and started scrubbing the leftover sauce or food that stuck to it. His mind was blank. He tried not to think of what happened. Because if he isn’t thinking about that, he’s thinking of nothing. His eyes were empty, just staring at the plate, his reflection faint in the center. His fingers shifted slightly with each new utensil he cleaned.
Once Sanji finished, it was time for a smoke break. The apron he wore was now off and hung on the wall by a hook.
Grabbing his pack of cigarettes, he opened it only to see one left.
There’s no way he smoked that much, right?
He scratched the back of his head, trying to replay the day and count how many he actually had. Didn’t really help much.
But he knew that one cigarette wasn’t enough, not for the shitty few days he was having.
He sighed, taking the last one and stepping outside. The sun was just going down, a soft red and orange glow casting across his face—and the Thousand Sunny. Looking out at the water was… something he could stare at forever. The ocean matched the sky’s color. Sparkles of light danced on the surface, and down below, little fish swam close to the Sunny, as if they were following it. Gentle waves hit the bottom of the ship, making a soft whssp sound each time water met wood. He enjoyed the view. The weather was nice, too.
A soft but cold breeze brushed across his face, making his hair blow gently with the wind. From behind him, he could hear soft, slow familiar footsteps. But he couldn’t tell who it was He narrowed his eyes at the thought of having to talk to someone but he didn’t mind it, either.
God, these emotions he had were so mixed. Can’t he just be a normal fucking person—?
voice was soft, followed with a casual small smile. You leaned gently on the railings of the ship, only your fingertips gripping the flat, white painted wood. You were nervous. You’d noticed Sanji’s behavior ever since you all left the island. The change in his energy. The way he’d isolate in the kitchen, pouring too much of himself into meals no one even asked for. You’d wanted to talk to him about it for so long, you had so many things you wanted to say. But now, standing beside him in the orange-pink light of the dying sun, your mind felt blank.
Nervousness? Definitely.But not because you were scared of Sanji’s reaction. It was more the fear that maybe, nothing you said would comfort him in the way he needed. Sanji wanted to seem like he was as happy as he could be. But he definitely didn’t have the energy to keep up the act he’d been putting on all day.
“Hey, Y/n,” he said, offering a seemingly genuine smile. “What brings you here?”
You saw through it immediately. That smile wasn’t real. And you were determined to get the truth out of him.
“Nothing,” you replied, trying to sound casual as possible. “Just noticed you here. Thought I’d say hi. You’ve been in the kitchen for a while, no? Cooking so many meals for us lately.” You fake-chuckled, pretending like the conversation hadn’t been rehearsed in your head over and over again. You knew how you wanted to start. The hard part would be seeing if you could keep up with him and his emotions, if he’d actually did open up.
Sanji snorted softly. “Well, yeah. Can’t leave my crewmates going unfed. What kind of cook would that make me?” He avoided eye contact. His gaze stayed fixed on the waves below. He started to lightly ruffle his hair with one hand—a habit you’d noticed before. You weren’t quite sure if he even realized he did it when he was nervous. Maybe it was just instinct. He ruffled it with the same hand holding his cigarette. The tip burned slowly down. A small pile of ash had formed on the railing in front of him, scattered where he kept flicking it without much thought.
“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured, resting a finger gently to your chin. “You sure you’re not going through something right now?” Your eyes narrowed slightly as you looked at him. He could feel it, that weight of your concern hovering over him like a shadow. He knew what you were trying to get at.
But he didn’t want to talk about it. Not really.
“Why would I be going through something?” he replied, shrugging a little as he flicked the cigarette again. Another bit of ash fell lazily down to the small pile. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t need to, he already knew you weren’t buying it.
“Well, that thing with your parents, and the wedding.” His face looked relaxed like you’d just brought up something as casual as the weather. Sanji exhaled a small stream of smoke. “Your point being?” He finally glanced at you. But it wasn’t full eye contact, his head stayed facing forward, his eyes just shifting halfway toward you. “As much as I love you for the fact that you care about me, and that you’re worrying… you’re overthinking this.” He turned his body a bit, finally facing you. His expression unreadable, tone still calm. Detached.
Like you were gonna fall for that.
You crossed your arms, “Riiight…” you dragged out the word, especially the middle syllable, just to make it very clear you weren’t buying anything he was selling. “And I’m not supposed to believe those five-star meals are just you being a ‘good cook,’ huh?”
You finger-quoted that last part for emphasis.
But pretending everything was okay wasn’t your style. Never has been. And honestly? You didn’t think it should be anyone’s. Watching Sanji throw himself into this exhausting act putting up smiles, serving meals like clockwork, burying his pain in butter and saffron, it was starting to wear on you.
It irritated you. Because you knew. You both knew. This wasn’t fine. And he hadn’t said a damn thing.
His body flinched by your words, just barely. but you saw it. “What are you trying to say?”
“Do you think I’m stupid, Sanji?”
His expression wasn’t angry. Just tired.
“I knew. Ever since the day after we left the island.” You added, voice softer but firmer now. “The dishes. The overly used smile you’ve been wearing all day. it doesn’t feel like you.”
He avoided your eyes again. That same move. That subtle withdrawal. You knew how hard it must be for him, someone so used to hiding pain behind charm to be confronted like this. But he’d left you no choice. What if no one ever talked to him about it? Leaving him to carry the weight he’d been dragging since Whole Cake Island? He would’ve drowned in it. And that thought alone made your chest ache. You didn’t even want to imagine what kind of dark place he would’ve ended up in, how much more depressed he might be by now if no one reached out. His jaw clenched a little. The cigarette burned too low for another drag, but he didn’t flick it away. Just held it there.
“I told you… I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly near the end.
You didn’t interrupt. You waited. Watched him as he seemed to wrestle with the words in his throat.
“I..” a big exhale from his mouth, making his chest move up, and down slowly. “I talked to Luffy,” he insisted. “We already had this conversation. I told him everything I needed to say. He understood. So, yeah—I’m fine now.”
He nodded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. But you could see it.
That was only half the truth. He did talk to Luffy. You could see the impact it had on him. But there was something he still hadn’t said out loud. Something still gnawing at him.
“So you talked to Luffy, and that magically made your problems go away?” you shot back, your tone sharper now. “That’s it? All better? Wow, I should just talk to Luffy about all of my problems if it’s so easy.”
“Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m fine now?” finally looking at you “Can I not talk about my family? I’m getting irritated.” He snaps his head toward the ocean.
You took a step closer. You weren’t angry, not really. But the way he kept trying to brush everything under the rug like it didn’t matter, it was maddening.
“No, Sanji. I’m not looking for anything. I see it. In your face, in your hands, and face when you give out food. The way you can’t even finish a sentence about yourself without having to switch it to the other person.”
He turned his head sharply, jaw tightening again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The silence between you both felt heavy He looked away again. His voice came softer this time. Almost like a whisper. “I want to be okay…” he said. “I want to be okay. That talking with Luffy really did fix it. But..” His voice broke completely then, cracking in the middle like something inside finally gave way.
“It’s hot,” he exhaled through his mouth, pulling at his collar, his fingers shaking. “The heat is pissing me off… Why did it get so hot all of a sudden out here?!” But it hadn’t. The weather hadn’t changed. The breeze was still cool, the sunset still soft on both of your skins. He was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to say any of that. Words came out like they were pulled straight from the pit of his stomach. You could see it in his face, he was upset at himself for letting it slip. Furious that he has to feel this again for the same reason. His shoulders were tense, his hands trembling.
He still hadn’t looked at you again. “Sanji,” you said softly but firm enough to break through whatever storm he had spinning in his head. He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched again, his chest rising and falling too fast. You could hear how uneven his breathing had gotten, like he was stuck between wanting to talk and cry.
So you reached out, slowly pressing a hand to his chest. Right over his heart. His breath caught, it’s gotten just a little slower by your touch. You could feel it beneath your hand, his heartbeat, fast and uncontrollable… As you stood there, it started to slow down. And strangely, your own breath began to match his. Like your presence alone was helping him find steady ground again. That’s when you leaned in, arms sliding around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.
Tucking your chin over his shoulder, wrapping your arms snug around his neck, your fingertips lightly brushing against his hair at the nape. The way you held him. You weren’t letting him slip through the cracks again. Sanji froze. Like the warmth of you against him stunned him more than anything else could’ve. Then slowly, awkwardly, his arms came up around your waist. His hands hesitated, hovering for a moment before they landed fully, fingertips flinching at every new place they touched, like he didn’t trust himself to hold you right. But eventually they settled.
He melted into your hug slowly, like it was something he didn’t realize he needed until his body gave in to it. The ship creaked faintly in the background, the distant waves and the sky. In this moment, everything else faded into a kind of quiet that pressed gently around you both. His chest rose and fell against yours fast at first, then easing.
“…Do you wanna talk about it?”
Your voice barely rose above the sea breeze. Like you were afraid too much volume might shatter the moment. There was a pause. Not stiff. Just long, Sanji was replaying what you said in his head. Did he really want to talk about it? If he did, would you see him as weak? With the time he had to think about it. He agreed, sighing deeply but slow of relief. “Yeah.” His voice cracked just a little. But there was no shame in it.
You pulled back gently, just enough to see his face, but you didn’t let go of him. His eyes didn’t meet yours, not yet. But his hand found yours as if on instinct. Fingers brushing, testing… then curling around yours with quiet need Hand in hand, you started walking across the deck, your footsteps light on the wood beneath you. Sanji led you toward his room. For the first time since these past few days, he finally had someone to be honest with.
The silence in Sanjis room was very bothersome, you both didn’t know where to start. During the silence, you examined his room. You’d been in Sanji’s room before. Dropped off spices he asked for, borrowed a deck of cards once. Stood awkwardly in the doorway while he scolded Luffy for sneaking snacks. So you knew how he usually kept it. Tidy, and practical. A little stylish without trying too hard.
But now? It wasn’t a mess. Not completely. But it wasn’t like him. The desk in the corner had two books stacked neatly, but another one sat open next to them pages creased, like he meant to finish the paragraph and never came back. A pen rolled to the edge, dangerously close to falling. His drawers weren’t closed all the way. One of them hung halfway open, and inside you could see clothes that looked like they’d been folded once and then shoved in quickly, half of them sticking out like he lost the energy halfway through.
Even his scent usually sharp and warm, like cloves with a mix of tobacco and the faintest trace of cologne. It felt duller in here. Lingering in the corners like it hadn’t been refreshed in a while.
“I thought…” he hesitated, breath catching and scratching his blonde wavy hair at the top of his head. “I thought if I just gave them what they wanted, if I let them use me, marry me off, then it would stop. All of it. And no one else would have to get dragged into it.”
He let out a shaky breath, brow furrowing.
“And I know it was stupid. I know that now. But back then?” He shook his head. “It made sense. Giving up on myself made sense.” You didn’t move. Your eyes stayed on Sanji jas be poured out his heart.
“I felt horrible,” he muttered. “For leaving. For not saying anything. For the way I looked at all of you when you showed up to bring me back.”rubbing at his jaw, eyes still on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze, he can’t believe he’s really saying everything. His voice cracked again. “But instead I got put on blast. Everything, everything I ever tried to forget about myself, just thrown out in front of them. Nami, Brook, and Chopper…” His voice trailed off. He sucked in a breath, like it physically hurt to name them.
“I saw the way they looked at me,” he whispered. “Not in disgust. Not pity, either. Worse. It was shock. Like they couldn’t even imagine the version of me that came from such a family. And for a second, I hated that. I hated that they had to see it.” His hands curled tighter in his lap.
“I wanted to keep everyone safe. Leaving was the only way out, especially with the circumstances we were in. And then,” He scoffed suddenly.
“Luffy.” He spat the name with a frustrated smile tugging at his lips, like it made him feel pathetic just to say it aloud. “That idiot had to come find me.“ He shook his head, biting back the next sentence. “I still pushed him away. Hit him. Told him to go home.”
His voice dropped to a whisper again, low and splintered. “He stood there and took it. And then he waited. Didn’t leave. Didn’t fight back. Just said he wouldn’t eat unless it was from me.” There was a silence that stretched long between you. Sanji’s shoulders had sunk now, like the weight of it all had finally dropped fully onto him.
“…I don’t know if I deserve any of you,” he murmured, barely audible.
You let the silence sit for a moment, not out of hesitation, but to make sure you both heard what he just said. Every word. Every broken, twisted thought he’d turned into truth in his head.
His head lifted slightly. He didn’t look at you. Just the wall. The floor. Anything but your face.
“I mean it, Sanji. Don’t ever say that again.” You cupped the side of his face for you to meet eyes.
“You think what you did was wrong, and yeah, it was reckless. It hurt us. It hurt me. But you did what you thought you had to do to protect the people you love.” You shifted, turning your body more towards him, your knee brushing his. His hands were still clenched in his lap. You reached for his hand, carefully. Your fingers brushing his knuckles first, then curling gently around them.
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve us.”He looked at you now. His eyes were wet, his jaw tense. “You’re not some burden we’re dragging behind us, Sanji,” you whispered. “You’re… you, You don’t understand just how enough that is.”
Rubbing your thumb slowly along his hand. “I missed you.” your face burned up a bit. “I was so worried about you. I missed you because this ship doesn’t feel the same without you, I loved waking up to your scent of love. walking through the halls smelling like smoked goods and burning toast in the mornings.”That got the smallest, most cracked half-laugh out of him. You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him.
“So yeah. You messed up. You’re not perfect. But none of us are. And if you ever say again that you don’t deserve us, or me, I’m gonna get Nami in here.” That made him laugh more, a little more louder than before. His shoulders loosened just a bit.
“Okay?” softly giggling softly. He nodded. Slowly. His hand gripped yours tighter
