uh... hi?

Sanji x reader x Zoro

Sfw 

They are always at their throats, constantly fighting about anything and everything, but they always stop whenever you’re in the room, not wanting to upset you or piss you off. 

Sleeping/cuddling with them always feels like you're burning alive. Zoro is definitely extremely hot when he sleeps and he loves to hold you close. Your back is sweaty from being pressed to his chest all night long. 

Sanji is a lot better with cuddling, he’ll hold you gently and not have a death grip if you try and move, but he often wakes you up on accident when he’s cooing and admiring you while you sleep, he’ll go crazy over your sleepy form. 

You always steal soft kisses from each other when you think no one is watching. 

nsfw 

 Knowing how Zoro is, he’s overprotective and cocky, he’ll fuck you dumb and force Sanji to watch, forbidding him from touching himself until you’ve cum. 

Sanji loves slow sloppy blowjobs 

And Zoro loves fucking your face 

Sanji teaching inexperienced!Zoro how to “properly eat you out”, showing how you like it best 

Sanji x reader x Ace

sfw 

I like to think this is like my poly situation, one partner is at your side (sanji) but the other is a bajillion miles away (ace) 

You and sanji always call him on a transponder, checking in on him daily, youd be in bed cuddling with sanji with ace on the nightstand, talking about nothing in particular. You sometimes call hourly depending on your schedules.  

Ace yearns to be with his partners, he always has a dull ache in his chest every time someone mentions you guys. 

When Ace does come to visit you guys are glue to each others hips, constantly kissing, holding each other, fucking like rabbits... 

Nsfw 

I mean like rabbits, Ace is constantly begging to pound into you, and throw your legs over his shoulders, and fold you in half 

He wants to put a kid in you so badddd, fill you up and breed you properly. And when it sticks and your tummy gets all round and swollen, he can retire from being a pirate and settle down with the both of you, as the three of you raise something to call your own. 

Ok but also imagine phone sex with them. It starts with a simple kiss with sanji that Ace hears, hes begging you guys to do it again, all the need is going straight to his dick. Hes begging you to make out as he practically moans at the sound of lips and saliva smacking against each other. His hand sliding down the front of his shorts, sneaking in. Ace starts glowing red when sanji teasingly questions him about the 'shlick' sounds growing louder through the transponder speaker. 

Suddenly you find yourself impaled on sanjis cock, bouncing slowly on it, letting the back of your thighs slap against Sanji's loudly. Your moans, whines, and whimpers can be heard through aces speakers as he grows closer to his release, it shoots against his hot chest in thick globs as he comes down from his high as he listens to you ride sanji, searching for your own release.

Law x reader x Kid

sfw 

Whole polycule mad 😭. Law doesn’t talk a lot and looks grumpy all the time,, and Kids wellllll we know EXACTLY what kid is like. 

They both aren’t big on pda so all your dates are staying in the comfort of the bedroom and away from all of the crews eyes and ears. 

They have their different ways of showing affection though, law loves spending quality time, he always has his hands on you when your alone together. And kid loves making things for you, like jewelry or metal sculptures. 

Ogh I love these guys sm 😭😭😭 law laying on the warmth of your soft stomach, pressing kisses on to the folds rubbing his hands on your thighs. Youre pressed up against Kids chest as he has a hand loosely wrapped around you, his hand threading through laws hair. His chin resting on the crook of your shoulders, taking in your soft hand that’s tracing his jaw gently. 

Nsfw 

"Aww kid made me a new necklace!" Yea, and he also made you a new vibrator. He loves making toys for you just so he could control them, hell overstimulate you and edge you, with a wicked grin on his face. 

Soft slow sex with law, hes slowly rolling his hips, thrusting inside of you while running his hands up your waist, his face is shoved in the crook of your neck, kissing it softly as he groans and whines. 

Kid in the cuck chair...... kid in the cuck chair...... Laws fucking you mercilessly, your crying and choked cries find their way to Kid, who is sat in a chair facing you, his hand pumping in time with Law's thrusts, he finds this so hot. 

Kid and Law have madddd dacyphilia kinks, they love it when you choke on their cock, and pretty tears roll down your cheeks when you gag. 

Vivi x reader x Nami

Cw: modern AU! (need to spice things up it was getting repetitive) 

sfw 

Sharing an apartment with your girlfriends is all that you hoped for, you can do everything together instead of just planning once a week like you guys used too. 

You guys share that silly three way kiss with each other, giggling and laughing at how silly it is, and that you’ve even contemplated doing it. 

Vivi loves when you and Nami are happy, it makes her smile at how much joy it brings her to see her favorite people with positive moods, shes always been a people please, so when you guys are just happy with staring at each other with longing eyes she feels at ease and doesn’t have to feel like she needs to fulfill anything. 

You guys are always cooking together, taste testing off of spoons held up to your mouth and sucking on sauce covered finger tips. 

NSFW 

Fucking Nami with your strap as she eats Vivi out, namis fingers pump in time with your thrusts, as she messily makes out with her cunt. 

Slowly feeling each other up in the early morning light, just basking in each other's company, and making each other cum on another’s fingers. 

Nami loves sitting on your guys' faces, loves grinding against the bridge of your noses 

you’re a bunny hybrid. born with those sweet bunny ears and little cottonball tail. your strengths were unmatched—all without a devil fruit either. your family loved you dearly, the town adored your sweet personality and kind heart. what more could you have asked in your life?

but as words traveled… this didn’t go unnoticed by the world government. upon hearing a strong hybrid—scoffing that out of all hybrids—a bunny? how pathetic they thought. what would a weak bunny hybrid do? yet, they arrived to your home. despite defending yourself and your family, your strengths were noticed. so what did the marines do? stripping you away from the place you onced called home—not able to say your last words to your family, watching the marines burn everything in front of your eyes. until it was all faded into broken ashes of memories.

tested in labs, tortured—trying to be built as a weapon. no matter how much you’ve fought back, how much you’ve endured—they’ve only made your life hell. day after day, night after night. the more injuries you’ve recieved, the more you’ve been injected with all sorts of drugs—until they found the right one. the one that would make you completely obedient and submissive into the hands of both the world government and the marines.

you were nothing but a pawn, a toy—just a weapon. and they’ve succeeded.

the collar seeping chemical dosages into your system, making you lose focus of your emotions—your morals, everything. word has spread everywhere—the world government’s new threat.

a bunny that could kill.

many pirates laughed, but the ones who laughed, paid the price. their life.

you were unable to see the sun. you could only dream of freedom. little by little, praying, hoping something or someone could end your misery. whether or not if it was easier to die.

until…

the sun came to you. the dream of freedom became a reality. as if your prayers have been heard from the sun god—your savior—saviors, came.

you were up against luffy. as the collar around your neck triggered the dosages of chemicals into your system, losing your morals, targetting to the strawhat pirates. one attack to the next—you were tiring them all out with your stamina, your eyes were dull and lifeless, but each kick—managed them to stumble back.

“it’s the remote—!”

luffy was two steps ahead—flying himself towards you, slamming you down harshly to the ground, as you desperately tried getting him off. sanji following after luffy, getting a hold of you. the marine officer with the remote for your collar overdosing the chemicals into your body.

“robin—get it away from that officer—!” luffy shouted, sanji grabbing you, holding you tightly to restrain you—he already felt guilty as is for holding you without his permission. as you fought and squirmed, biting down harshly onto his hand, the chemicals seeping into your blood couldn’t hear his small pained wince, but he never let you go.

“hey, it’s okay.. focus on my voice.”

your mind was hazy—but all you could think of besides the chemicals being drugged in your system, was someone’s soft voice, your back against his chest, holding you tightly. your pupils dilating, you could taste the blood from his hands from how hard you bit him—the guilt beginning to register in your head.

guilt..?

you were beginning to focus—you were stronger than the strong dosages of the chemicals now.

“hey! you got this—! we’re here to help you!” luffy shouted, as he stood up, running to ward off the marines away, you tried your best to focus, fighting the control. weakly picking your head up, noticing that the strawhats—fighting the marines, defying all odds, to save you. you’re only a stranger to them—why are they doing this? what did you deserve to be saved by them?

you slowly removed your mouth away from sanji’s hand, the bitter metallic taste in your mouth, your eyes focusing.

“it’s okay. you’re safe with us.”

tilting your head back slightly, seeing sanji’s face—focused on you.

you didn’t even realize tears began burning down your cheeks. the tightness in your throat beginning to contrict, a small hiccup leaving your lips. the tears wouldn’t stop, your frame trembling, wiping your bandaged hands, the scars all over your body, the pain and agony—and yet, you’re being held in a warm embrace. his hands gently wiping your tears, you could only shatter. after enduring for so long—you could finally feel.

the moment you boarded the ship with you in his arms after escaping from the marine base, him carrying you to chopper’s office, before leaving. already in the kitchen, already finding himself busy with ingredients, making a warm soup for you amongst other dishes. the fact you entrusted him with carrying you, holding you even—his heart ached. after chopper finished flushing the toxins and chemicals out of your system before attending to help your wounds, seeing sanji enter in the office with a tray of food, chopper hopping off his chair, leaving to get desserts, and to give some space for you.

watching him placing the tray down on the table, you watched his movements, noticing his features—god he’s good looking and you bit his hand??? he was never going to forgive you for sure there’s just no way—

“i’m sorry for biting your hand.” you mumbled softly. you already tilted your head down in embarassment. “i’m truly, truly sorry—”

as he glanced down, his hand bandaged up earlier since chopper was busy treating you, he only smiled softly, sitting down beside the infirmary bed, holding the bowl of soup in his hand with a spoon.

“no, it’s my fault.” he said, softly blowing on the hot soup, gently spoon feeding you “what matters more is you getting better, mon amour.”

your eyes gently closed, enjoying the breeze of the sea, as your mind thought back from what happened from the past weeks, before hearing the conversations below you—luffy, chopper, and usopp playing together, zoro napping, nami and robin having their tea time together, franky working on his own projects, and brook providing the music.

it wasn’t your home when you first stepped onto the thousand sunny, but now it was.

“there you are ma chère.”

your fluffy bunny ears perking up, opening your eyes and turning your head around seeing him—the one who held you through your worst.

“hi sanji.”

his warm soft smile forming on his lips, sitting beside you, before reaching out to your hand, placing a soft kiss, making your little bunny tail softly wag—curses to his sweet and charming moves.

“i was looking for a certain bunny yknow.” his gently teased, gently keeping your hands in his, the warm touch lingering. “anything you’d like to eat or drink, my lady?”

“sanji, i still feel bad when you ask me for what i want..”

“nonsense mon amour, after all i’m the cook of our crew!”

our.

if you heard that from a month ago—you wouldn’t have believed that you were now a part of a new family. a family who loves you just as much as your family did back from home.

“could i get an iced lemonade?”

“anything the beautiful lady desires.” watching him stand up before pressing a warm kiss onto your forehead before leaving you, on his way to the kitchen.

for some reason, even when getting used to the feeling of being on a ship, being in a crew, getting to know all of them—your heart lingered with sanji. you couldn’t even understand why. you knew nami would tease you. wondering why you would love a lovesick pervert like him—but who wouldn’t?

in your eyes, he’s perfect.

his chivarly, his kindness, his appreciation towards women, his admirations, his ambitons, his dreams.

even when he came from an abused home—he still chose compassion and kindness.

no matter how others see him as a fool in love with women—you knew the truth. not many would understand, but you did. the late nights where you talked with him in the crows nest, telling each other’s stories from the past, and living for present and future, you understood him. you connected with him.

he’ll fall head over heels for almost any pretty woman he sees yes, but his adoration stemming from his childhood trauma, the lack of maternal and familial love. viewing through his eyes—that women as inherently precious and worthy of absolute protection, regardless of whether they are allies or enemies. and because of chef zeff teaching him the gentleman code, his appreciation is both honor and chivalry. even if he’s swoon over women, he still cares for others.

his heart is warm. soft. the kindest out of all.

in your heart, he took a permanent residence.

his hands lingering around you making sure you didn’t trip, making sure you’re satisfied with the meals and all the treats, spoiling you. of course the lingering thought came to mind whether or not he does like you or not.

his hands were slightly trembling in the kitchen, his cheeks flushed from just looking at you—god he would never play favorites at all amongst his crew, but you—you were something else.

the nights where you couldn’t sleep and you trusting him only to hold you before falling asleep together—how could his heart not race???

your kindness, your smile, your courage—everything about you is so endearing to him.

despite it being a month since you’ve boarded the thousand sunny, his flirts died down towards both nami and robin—which made it already seem like sanji was sick according to his own crew members.

but his heart yearned for someone else.

his heart wanted—no needed someone else.

he needed you.

tossing and turning in bed after dinner, everyone was already asleep…

great, another night where you couldn’t sleep. as your feet guided you to the aquarium bar, watching the fishes swimming in the tank, resting your head against the soft cushioned seats, the soft but dark light shining on your face lightly, before hearing footsteps near by, your ears perking up—hearing the familiar voice.

“can’t sleep again, love?”

“yea..” the moment you turned around to look at him, there he was.

he was holding a cake.

a strawberry choco cake.

your favorite.

“sanji…? what.. what’s the cake for?”

“it’s been a month since finding you, mon amour.”

“you made a cake…just for me?”

“of course. i couldn’t ever forget the day we found you.” the lighter and the cake being gently placed by the table, watching him opening his arms for you to come. “one month anniversary since you joined us, a month already passing of us sharing our stories and past, a month of being a part of this crew.”

you could feel your bottom lip quivering already, leaving your spot and running into his arms, his hand gently cupping the back of your head, stroking your hair softly, his fingers gently brushing against your floppy ears.

“sorry for touching them.”

“no—it’s okay.”

“are you sure?”

“positive. i trust you sanji”

god just strike lightening on this poor man now, his heart was beating out of his chest as is.

his hands carefully touching your ears, watching your cottontail wag, his cheeks turning red—

“you’re adorable.” he blurted out—he couldn’t even take his words back now oh god what if you thought of him as a weirdo now—

“thank you, sanji.” looking up at him to see his face, noticing his cheeks turning more pink, you could only smile softly.

both of you stood there, drowning into each others eyes, hearts intertwining, the forgotten cake beside you both on the table, gently standing on the tip of your toes as his head leaned down to match your height.

“may i..?”

instead of responding to his permission, gently tugging him by his shirt, pulling him down to a kiss. the kiss was soft and sweet, his hands not touching you before it found its place onto your waist, bringing you closer. melting into the kiss, your cheeks turning pink and your heart racing—there was no way he’s actually kissing you back.

your bunny tail wagging even more, brushing against his fingers and his heart about to explode, pulling away from the kiss first, watching his reaction.

“you’ve completely and utterly ruined me, ma chère.” him covering his face slightly to hide his blush away from your gaze before getting a piece of cake for you, holding the fork and his hand underneath to prevent from spilling.

“say ah..”

obeying almost immediately, opening your mouth as he fed you the sweet cake, the flavors of strawberry and choco melting in your mouth, you could only hum in satisfaction.

“perfect as always, sanji. thank you.”

as he noticed a bit of cream at the corner of your lip, leaning his head down again, licking the small bit away before giving a quick peck onto your lips. “anything for you, my bunny.”

Sanji crossed his arms as though to tell you that it wasn’t what he was protesting with his expression. You smiled innocently because although you had promised to be an accurate translator, you had your limits.

“You wanted to offer her a drink,” you said. “I gave her a compliment and did that. I went above and beyond to make sure it sounded like the offer genuinely came from your heart.”

He shook his head in disappointment, leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek regardless and tapped on Robin’s empty glass.

“No, thank you,” you said. “I have mine already.”

“Not entirely convinced on the mind reading thing yet,” Franky commented. “Two hours in and you have the whole thing down perfectly.”

You smirked proudly and held out your bottle to him. He took it and popped the top off with an opener in his palm, handing it back. Sanji tapped a bottle opener against the bar and you turned back to him with a smile.

“You’re busy making a drink for Nami,” you defended yourself. “And Franky has one right in his hand.”

Franky grinned. “Got pretty much everything. Never know what you’re going to need.”

Sanji sighed dramatically and continued preparing Nami’s drink. If he had a voice, you felt very sure he would be mumbling something under his breath that would make you giggle. You enjoyed tormenting him sometimes.

Unfortunately, even if he’d tried to speak, it wouldn’t have been too useful.

It felt like only a few minutes ago that he’d given you a kiss, opened his mouth to offer something, and said absolutely nothing. Chopper confirmed it was probably a lingering side effect of some nonsense he’d breathed in on the last island you’d stopped at. It would wear off in a few hours.

Which naturally meant that you had become an impromptu translator until then.

And not a very good one at that. You knew what Sanji wanted to say – after so long at his side, it would be impossible not to – and for the most part, you got there eventually. The main difference was that you refused to make it sound quite right.

A hand grew from the ground, passing Robin’s bottle over so Franky could open it too before carrying it back to where she sat in the sun with a book resting against her knees.

“Robin, darling!” you called. “Can Sanji offer you an appetizer before lunch?”

She laughed to herself. “I’m quite alright, thank you.”

Sanji had had no intention of offering extra food but he still smiled at you fondly as he finished Nami’s drink. You had to be entertaining him, if not getting his words across. Even if that meant listening to you attempt to compliment the two women every time they appeared in your line of sight.

He placed it down next to her seat and you immediately turned to her, waiting for her thank you so you could offer the appropriate level of devotion.

“Anything for you, Nami! Your beauty is absolutely unmatched in this world!”

She laughed and blew a kiss to you that you made a show of catching and pressing to your heart.

“Aw, come on man, that wasn’t accurate,” Franky ribbed. “She blew you a kiss. Where’s the nosebleed? The fainting? You’ve got to commit to being your man fully if you’re going to do it.”

Sanji rolled his eyes as he walked past you, pausing briefly to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear affectionately.

You smiled up at him. “Thank you for whatever compliment you’re giving me mentally, right now,” you said. “I’m thinking it’s somewhere along the lines of me still being beautiful even if I did get a nosebleed.”

He shrugged as though it was good enough before he returned to the bar, grabbed a napkin, and quickly wrote something down. He held it out to you and you read the flattery with a warm smile.

“Aw, thank you love,” you said. “You’re too sweet.”

He gestured to the napkin and took a seat beside you on the chair. When you leaned in, he gave you a quick peck despite clearly trying to communicate something, then tapped the napkin again.

“I’ve read it,” you said.

He brushed a finger gently across your lower lip.

You sighed softly. “You want me to read it out? I don’t know if I can compliment myself for you, darling. I’d sound awfully arrogant.”

Franky lifted his sunglasses to look down at the napkin and nodded. “You would sound absolutely ridiculous saying that to yourself.”

“Maybe I can say it to Robin or Nami?” you offered.

Sanji pressed a hand dramatically to his heart as though you’d threatened to stab him through the chest. It was meant for you then.

You laughed. “Then, I’m sorry, love, but if you want to hear me say it aloud, you’re going to have to wait until you get your voice back, okay?”

Zoro scoffed, a sound that surprised you because you’d thought he was asleep this whole time.

“With any luck, that’ll be never.”

Sanji glared at him and then gestured for you to speak. You paused, considering what you could say that sounded appropriate before shrugging and sending a rude gesture in Zoro’s direction, which only made him frown.

Sanji’s expression said everything.

“I know you could have done that,” you said. “But I thought it got my point across. Oh, and Zoro?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you.” You nodded to Sanji. “There, now I said it and showed it.”

Zoro blinked at you and then shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. “Fine,” he said. “Your voice is less grating at least.”

“I get right to the heart of the insult,” you said. “The point stands and no need for yelling.”

Sanji breathed out heavily and shook his head at you but the smile still lingered on his face so you took that to mean you weren’t entirely failing in your duties.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I love you too.”

He nodded his approval and moved to get up when you caught his wrist. He stayed as you laced your fingers with his, an idea creeping into your mind.

“I think you should maybe take the rest of the day off to recover,” you suggested. “I can take over cooking today.”

He looked very offended at the suggestion, gesturing to his throat with his free hand as though asking what his lack of a voice had to do with cooking. The answer was honestly very little but it was fun that he couldn’t protest verbally.

“No, I understand,” you said. “You’re very tired. Maybe you can stay out here and I’ll go start preparing something right now.”

“Are we having more breakfast?” Luffy asked, his head turning away from his game with Usopp.

“No,” you answered sweetly. “But I’m going to cook lunch.”

Sanji’s expression was becoming more distressed by the second although pride briefly fluttered through when Luffy frowned.

“But I prefer Sanji’s cooking.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, that’s just mean. Sanji’s letting me cook because he loves me.”

Sanji smiled and lowered his head, kissing the back of your hand in a way that was clearly meant to soothe your captain’s insult. His expression promised a thousand reassuring praises about how he enjoyed it when you cooked.

“As long as you appreciate me,” you said. “I think I’ll be alright.”

He nodded and gestured for you to say something, tapping the napkin and its sweet flattery again.

“I’m not complimenting myself verbally,” you insisted. “It’ll sound so embarrassing. Even if technically, it comes from you.”

“Give it here, I’ll read the thing,” Franky said. “Though as a warning, I’m going to have to edit it a little if it’s too mushy.”

Sanji shook his head and reached for the napkin and you purposefully leaned back in your seat, shuffling a little away to grab it and hold it out toward the clearly not-listening swordsman.

“You know who reads things very well?” you asked. “Zoro! Would you mind?”

Sanji lunged for the napkin with such immediate horror that his chair scraped against the deck. He caught your wrist before you could surrender it to Zoro, shaking his head with the frantic severity of a man preventing an international disaster.

Nami laughed openly while Robin lowered her book just enough to reveal the smile she was making no effort to hide as Sanji tried his hardest to ask you to stop tormenting him without being able to offer even one pleasantry to his request.

Zoro looked over. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I’m just using you to tease Sanji. He’s cute when he’s flustered.”

Zoro clicked his tongue, nose wrinkling in annoyance. “Then don’t.”

Sanji’s cheeks turned faintly pink at the compliment and mild frustration. He so badly wanted to counter you with praise of his own. You could practically see the flattery where it was stuck in his throat, desperate to escape. You even had an exact idea of what line he wanted to say to try and turn his embarrassment into lavish compliments.

You smiled and looked toward the other two women who were both still amused.

“I think Sanji’s meaning to tell you both that your laughs are more precious than any song,” you said sweetly.

Sanji sighed.

“I think we should make this a permanent thing,” Nami said. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

“I’ll run out of compliments to give eventually,” you warned her. “Then I’m just going to be telling you that you look nice fifty times a day.”

She shrugged. “That’s already what I hear whenever Sanji speaks so it isn’t too different.”

You snickered and Sanji huffed once, offended but still willing to forgive her for it on instinct alone. Of course.

“Don’t worry, I enjoy your poetry,” you promised, squeezing the hand that you were still holding. “But I’m no good at coming up with my own.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded to the napkin.

“Still not reading it aloud.”

He breathed out dramatically.

You didn’t end up getting to cook which, honestly, was a tragedy. Thanks to your announcement of your intentions, Sanji was already waiting for the moment you tried to sneak your way into the kitchen and he’d brought a chair in so you could sit without interfering.

Every time he caught you and gently led you away, you waited for the kiss and the whispered flattery and though you got the former… the latter stayed annoyingly out of your reach.

You found yourself becoming strangely nostalgic as the day drew on without any sweetened compliments or lovely names flitting your way. You were almost tempted to give in and put words behind his gestures though your pride still caught you before it happened. Worse, you knew even if you tried you would never say the words the same way he did.

You couldn’t imitate his gentle cadence and really, the words were meaningless without that.

You sat behind him in the kitchen with the sizzling pans and the steady stirring against a bowl and yet still found it eerily quiet. Quiet in a way you truly hated.

“Do you know what I don’t like?” you asked, mainly for something to break the quiet. “I can’t see what you’re doing from over here. So, I feel left out.”

Sanji’s shoulders raised in the same way they always did when he laughed though the sound didn’t follow. He moved the pan from the stove so you could see it, pointing with the spoon as he would normally do.

But without the explanation, it wasn’t nearly as fun.

“I’ve never realised how much you talk,” you said.

He gave you an unimpressed expression in response and you laughed, hurrying to clarify.

“No, no, I’m not complaining about it,” you assured. “I was missing it. I like hearing you speak.”

He stared at you fondly for a second too long before he smiled and went back to what he had been doing. The temptation to go and nag Chopper about how much longer this would take was only growing worse with the passing seconds.

You stood from your chair and ventured closer, staying out of his way the best you could, to watch him. He glanced at you and smiled, holding out his hand for a jar of spice at your elbow.

You handed it over, brushing your fingers against his own purposefully.

He smiled and nodded but without the flattering gratitude, you sighed. He squeezed your wrist tightly and though you knew what he was meaning, it didn’t make you feel better.

“No need to look so happy about it,” you said with a slight pout. “You’d miss hearing my voice too if I suddenly couldn’t talk.”

He nodded fervently in agreement and gestured in a way you took to mean something along the lines of losing your voice being a great tragedy inflicted on the world. It was nice. But it wasn’t quite right and your mouth still twisted in annoyance at it.

You continued to translate on occasion through the day but it wasn’t really needed. Everybody knew Sanji well enough that your help was very unimpactful.

And your mood sank more as he placed a plate in front of you, entirely different from everybody else’s.

One of your favourites. Clearly meant to be an apology for your disappointment.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you mumbled as you gave him an appreciative kiss. “But thank you.”

Luffy glanced toward your plate curiously and you waited until Sanji had stepped back into the kitchen to give him half of it. You didn’t have much of an appetite when you felt like this but luckily, you dined with a bottomless vacuum cleaner and never had to worry about anybody seeing when you hadn’t finished your meal.

Which, unsurprisingly, meant you woke at an ungodly hour of the morning with your stomach growling at you. You made your way into the kitchen with a yawn against the back of your hand.

Like this, you could appreciate the silence a little more.

It was supposed to be quiet when you were busy by yourself, borrowing one of the knives you’d been told a thousand times you could use, and making yourself something small enough to tide you over until breakfast. This quiet was comfortable.

Yet it still annoyed you purely because of how it had been earlier when it crept into spaces that should have been filled with flirting.

The doors swung open and you jumped for a second before you recognised Sanji’s silhouette and you smiled.

“Hello,” you greeted. “Do you have a sixth sense for when somebody walks into the kitchen?”

He smiled and yawned, but then he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice rough with disuse but audible. “I’m sorry, mon amour, I thought it was Luffy.”

“Oh?” you hummed, unable to stop the smile that spread over your face at the familiar sound of his voice. You turned around, abandoning your food to slip closer. “That’s a sound I’ve missed something terrible. Are you feeling better?”

“Much. I woke up and could speak again. I never thought it would be so difficult although you certainly tormented me for it, cherie.”

You laughed softly. “Aw, I did nothing. All that I’m guilty of is sharing your usual love with the others. And they were smiling more than usual so that’s a win.”

He huffed. “True but not being able to share the same love with you was torture. Far worse than if you’d abandoned speaking for me all together. I could spend every hour of the day praising you and still leave half your virtues unsaid.”

“I still knew what you were trying to say.”

“That’s not the same as hearing it,” he insisted.

You rested your arms over his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him softly. He smiled gently against your mouth, hands coming naturally to rest against your sides. No matter how many times you kissed him though, his cheeks always flushed slightly at the end.

“Were you hungry?” he asked when you moved away.

“Just a little,” you admitted. “But I didn’t want to wake you up for a midnight snack.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you could always wake me.”

“If I knew you’d have your voice back, I would have,” you said. “It’s such a lovely sound. Although I’m also grateful I don’t have to keep thinking of compliments. You’re more creative than I give you credit for. I ran out of orange things to compare to Nami’s hair after the first hour.”

He sighed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was authentic,” you insisted.

“No, it wasn’t because you wouldn’t say a word to yourself. Nami-san and Robin-chan are radiant, amour, but you’re the one who holds my heart. You’d need to acknowledge that first.”

You hummed teasingly. “Really? Because I thought I heard some very pretty words for them when I was reading your mind earlier.”

He shook his head but his smile remained humoured. “You came up with those ideas yourself.”

“Did I?”

Sanji chuckled and stepped back, catching your hand before it slid fully from his shoulder and lowering his head to kiss the back of it. “You must have. My love is for you and only you mademoiselle.”

His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles, and for once, neither of you rushed to turn the moment into a joke.

You smiled warmly at him. “That one sounds like it’s been waiting a few hours to be said.”

Something excited sparkled in his eyes at your words. “It definitely has and don’t worry, I’ve written down every single word I wanted to say to you yesterday. I fully intend to make sure you hear them at least twice to make up for the delay.”

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @moon-shampoo ; @charukii 

The first time you sleep together he spends the majority of the time thanking you as his cock hammers home hard and fast inside you. A brutal pace that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits that sweet spongy spot with frankly terrifying accuracy. He has you folded into a mating press as he finishes inside you. “Fuck, fuck Princess you feel so fucking good. I can keep going, yeah, please, please say I can keep going.” As he's already starting to move inside of you again, “I've waited so long for you.”

There are times that he spends slowly drawing your orgasms out of you, talking you through his ministrations. Telling you that you're “being so good for him,” and that “you can give me another one, can't you?”. He coos over you, “I know, I know it's a lot, but you can take it, can't you?”, as he has you shaking from overstimulation after another orgasm. “You'll be a good girl and take all of it for me, won't you?”.

He deifies you as he worships over your body at the altar that is your shared bed, giving praise and offering his devotion to you. He talks about how you've ruined him, how no one has ever felt like you, and that no one would be able to compare. His fingers dig into your hips as he tells you that you were made for him and how he fits perfectly inside of you.

A small part of you loves when he goes from dirty to downright filthy. He has you face down with your ass in the air, one hand has a vice-like grip on your hip, and the other is tangled in your hair. “God I love watching your ass bounce as I fuck you like this.” He licks and bites up the expanse of your back, until his lips are right next to your ear. “Do you want my cum Princess? Huh, do you want me to cum in you, until you're overflowing with me?” He chuckles, as he feels you clench around him, “Yeah you fucking do.”

The only time you can get him to shut up is when you're sitting on his face. Even then he spends the majority of his time moaning and whimpering into your pussy as you grind down on him. And after you've cum he gently lifts you off of his face to thank you for the meal.

There are times, though, when you absolutely love how much he talks during sex. Specifically, when it's one of the few times he lets you take the lead. The whimpers and moans you pull out of him as you practically torture him with your slow and steady pace. His hands tied with one of his many ties at the headboard, the wood groaning as he pulls hard at his restraints, desperate to touch you. It's especially delicious when all you're doing is sitting on his cock, unmoving. The small twitches of him inside you and the slight jerks of his hips as he becomes more and more desperate for friction. Indulging him with some small relief by clenching and releasing around him. And it's not until he's sobbing as he begs for you to move that you finally give in and ride him. He babbles incoherently as he's finally able to reach his release deep inside of you. You give him a short moment to catch his breath before you start riding him again. He looks at you with confusion and asks what you're doing.

“Oh, my sweet Prince,” you say with sickening sweetness caressing his face as he pants from the overstimulation, “I'm not done with you yet.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

🍽️ Oh boy, this man. He would be so happy to swap bodies with you, his hands immediately finding his favourite parts of you. Sorry to the ladies, but he would definitely fondle your breasts right in front of you— essentially getting off on it. A quick smack to the head will snap him out of it, partially.

🍽️ If you guys do have to fight in each other’s bodies, he’ll beg for you to try to imitate his fighting style. His hands are very important to him and his job, so he doesn’t want them getting damaged. He himself will do his best to keep your body from harm, but his movement is limited.

🍽️ If the body swap caused you two to switch clothes, he would fawn on how nice you (technically your body) looks with his clothes on. If your clothes on his body are overly feminine or just not his style, he will try to make you change your clothes or steer clear of Zoro. He would never let Sanji live it down.

🍽️ One thing you realized after switching back was how stiff your body was. Or how flexible Sanji was. He could move his body with such ease, especially below his waist. Maybe it had something to do with him being genetically modified. If you got used to it and complain about being so stiff now, he’ll happily give you a massage.

Luffy

🍖 Luffy would find it really cool to be in your body! He would comment about everything, your height and body type, how everything feels different. He’s nothing like Sanji, he doesn’t exploit it in a sexual manner. He’s just curious.

🍖 Fighting in each other’s bodies is harder for Luffy, he’s good at combat, but he’s used to using his devil fruit. Without it, he’s more likely to get hit since he’ll forget and make an opening for the enemy in his confusion. You, on the other hand, are trying to get used to his devil fruit powers.

🍖 Luffy doesn’t care what his body is wearing in your possession, as long as he has his straw hat. He’ll just smile and say that he looks goofy in your clothes. If you’re a more modest person, you will have to wrestle Luffy into keeping his vest shut and not exposing your chest to the world. He’ll respect that boundary because he wants to live to be king of the pirates.

🍖 The thing that shocked you about Luffy’s body was his appetite. You knew how much of a foodie he was, but you assumed that was just his personality. The entire time you were in his body, you were practically starving. Maybe Luffy had just conditioned his body into eating obscene amounts of food.

Zoro

🎍 Zoro would be shocked initially when you swapped bodies, but would get used to it very quickly. He doesn’t feel your body up or explore anything. He’s just accepts it and move on. On the outside, at least. He’s freaking out on the inside and trying not to act like a creep.

🎍 Fighting with his body isn’t that different. He’s a muscular dude, so he doesn’t need his swords for combat You can land hits on others pretty easily with little damage to yourself. Zoro is also okay using three sword style with your body. And even if you’re a girl, your chest wouldn’t get in the way. Because, canonically, his is probably bigger than yours.

🎍 He’ll probably make a comment or two about how your body looks in his clothes, a compliment if you squint. But if you’re wearing something that’s even an inkling of embarrassment to him?? He will MAKE you change. Even if it’s in the middle of a fight, he refuses to let his body be seen like that.

🎍 You notice how sore his body is. It’s probably from how much he trains. You wonder how he doesn’t complain all the time. You’ll feel phantom aches for a few days after you switch back. When you switch back, your teeth will hurt from holding a sword. You complain to him about it and he’ll complain back about that ridiculous outfit you made his body wear.

The galley of the Thousand Sunny was usually a cacophony of life—Luffy screaming for meat, Usopp inventing tall tales, Chopper running in panicked circles, and Zoro grumbling over being woken up.

But at midnight, the galley belonged to ghosts.

Sanji stood at the marble island counter, a cigarette burning down between his fingers, the ash trembling as it grew too heavy. Before him sat a ceramic plate, untouched and slowly growing cold.

A slice of lemon-blueberry tart. The crust was precisely three millimeters thick, the blueberries sourced from the island they’d docked at three days ago—the very island where Y/N had decided to stay behind.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sanji-kun,” her voice echoed in his memory, soft yet immovable, floating up from the floorboards. “My roots aren’t made for the sea. They’re planted here, in the soil. Someone has to look after the orphanage. Someone has to stay.”

He exhaled a long, thin stream of gray smoke, his blue eyes dull in the dim light of the overhead lamps.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice raspy.

He reached out and traced the edge of the plate with the pad of his thumb. It was an involuntary motion, a phantom habit.

Everything on this ship—no, on the entire sea—seemed rigged with tripwires designed solely to launch him back into the past.

The clatter of a whisk against a copper bowl reminded him of her laugh, light and rhythmic like rain on a tin roof.

The scent of roasting coffee beans brought back the mornings they’d spent leaning against the galley railing, watching the sunrise paint the Grand Line in impossible shades of gold and violet.

Even the taste of sea salt on his lips carried the phantom ghost of her skin against his.

It was driving him insane.

Sanji stubbed out his cigarette in the silver ashtray with enough force to crush the filter, then snatched up the plate. He couldn't look at it anymore.

He dumped the slice of tart into the waste bin—a sacrilege for a chef of his caliber, wasting food—and gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning stark white.

“Everything reminds me of you,” he whispered to the empty, quiet room, the confession tearing past his teeth like jagged glass. “It’s driving me insane, Y/N.”

Two thousand leagues away, on an island where the earth smelled eternally of damp moss and blooming jasmine, you sat on the wooden porch of the village orphanage.

In your lap sat a tattered notebook, its pages filled with ink sketches of ship rigging, swirling nebulae of sea charts, and, squeezed into the margins, dozens of quick portraits of a blond man with a curled eyebrow, smoking endlessly.

You held a wooden spoon in your right hand, absently tapping it against your knee. Down below, in the oversized community kitchen, a pot of vegetable stew was simmering. It was a good recipe. Hearty, warm, packed with root vegetables and herbs.

Yet, as you stirred it earlier that evening, the heavy, earthy aroma had suddenly shattered into a million sharp pieces in your mind, replacing the kitchen with the gleaming, immaculate galley of the Sunny. You could vividly picture Sanji standing over his stove, his posture impossibly straight, humming a gentle tune while he effortlessly julienned carrots with a knife that moved like lightning.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re hundreds of leagues away, making meals for a crew of absolute monsters,” you scolded yourself aloud, though your voice lacked any real bite.

The crickets hummed in the tall grass surrounding the porch, a steady, rhythmic sound. But to your ears, the chirping distorted into the chaotic, beloved symphony of the Straw Hat crew: Luffy’s howling laughter, Nami’s sharp reprimands, Brook’s booming piano, and—beneath it all—Sanji’s smooth, melodic voice calling out, “Table’s ready, my sweet Y/N! A feast fit for a goddess!”

You opened your eyes and stared down at the wooden spoon. Even the grain of the wood looked like the swirls of his eyebrows.

“This is ridiculous,” you whispered, standing up so abruptly your chair scraped loudly against the porch boards.

You walked to the edge of the porch and looked out over the sleeping village, bathed in the silver glow of a crescent moon. You had chosen this life.

You had wanted stability, a place to belong, dirt beneath your fingernails instead of endless salt spray. But as the wind carried a stray, phantom scent of tobacco and citrus across the miles, your chest ached with a hollow, burning longing.

You didn't just miss him. You were haunted by him.

Morning broke over the Grand Line with a violent, jagged squall.

The Thousand Sunny tossed and pitched over towering, slate-gray waves. Rain lashed against the deck like a shower of iron nails.

Amidst the chaos of snapping ropes and billowing sails, Sanji stood at the helm-side railing, drenched to the skin, pulling a fresh cigarette from his damp pack.

He flicked his lighter twice, shielding the tiny flame with his palm until it caught. He inhaled deeply, the nicotine burning a familiar path down his throat.

“Oi, Cook!” Zoro yelled over the roar of the wind, his hand resting on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji as he helped secure the main sail. “The soup’s gonna burn if you’re just standing there staring at the horizon like a depressed seagull!”

Sanji didn’t turn his head. He simply exhaled a plume of smoke that vanished instantly into the gale. “Mind your own business, moss-head. Lunch will be ready when it’s ready.”

“You’ve been staring at the empty sea for ten minutes,” Zoro muttered, eyeing the blond with a rare flicker of scrutiny. “There’s nothing out there.”

“I know,” Sanji murmured, so quietly that even the wind almost stole it.

There was nothing out there. That was precisely the problem. Every time he looked out at the endless expanse of blue, he expected to see a small rowboat breaking the horizon, or a flash of Y/N’s favorite jacket fluttering in the breeze. The void was deafening.

In the galley, preparing breakfast had turned into a cruel exercise in psychological torture. When he cracked eggs, he remembered how she liked hers fried just slightly crisp on the edges.

When he sliced bread, he remembered how she always stole the heel before it could be buttered.

When he poured black coffee into a mug, he cursed himself for subconsciously setting out two cups—one of them sitting empty, waiting for a pair of hands that weren't there.

He dropped his head back against the wooden bulkhead, squeezing his eyes shut as the ship pitched violently beneath his leather shoes.

“Damn you, Y/N,” he growled against the wind. “You left me your jacket, and now even the fucking ocean smells like you.”

On the island of Oakhaven, the midday sun beat down mercilessly through the canopy of ancient trees. You were kneeling in the community vegetable garden, your hands buried deep in the rich, dark soil as you weeded the tomato patch.

Your palms were stained green and brown. A lock of hair had escaped your tie, sticking to your damp forehead.

Around you, children laughed as they played tag near the well, their cheerful shrieks echoing off the stone walls. It was a good sound. It was peace. It was everything you had told yourself you needed.

So why did your chest feel so impossibly tight?

You reached for a stubborn weed near the base of a tomato plant, tugging hard until it gave way. As you sat back on your heels, wiping your brow with the back of your wrist, a stray breeze rustled the leaves above.

And in that rustling sound, you didn't hear the forest. You heard the soft, clicking clack of a lighter snapping open.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You slowly lowered your hand, staring blindly at the dark soil between your knees.

“You’re burning yourself out again, Y/N-chan,” his voice drifted through your mind, so crisp and clear you could almost feel the phantom warmth of a hand brushing that damp lock of hair away from your eyes.

“Even the strongest flowers need a rest. Come inside. I made something special for you.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, cutting a clean path through the dirt smudged on your skin.

“Stop it,” you whispered to the empty air, your voice trembling. “Just stop it.”

You couldn't bake a loaf of bread without picturing how Sanji would critique the rise of the dough with a proud, crooked smile.

You couldn't peel potatoes without hearing his lecturing voice on the proper angle of the blade.

Even the smell of woodsmoke from the village hearths brought back memories of him lighting his endless cigarettes on the deck under a blanket of stars.

You were drowning on dry land. The soil wasn’t holding you down; it was burying you alive in memories of a blond chef with a heart too big for his own good.

Two weeks later, the Thousand Sunny dropped anchor at a familiar, secluded cove.

The crew had raised their eyebrows when Sanji abruptly announced he was taking a day of shore leave—something the cook never did unless it involved rescuing a damsel in distress or buying rare spices.

“You’re going alone?” Nami had asked, crossing her arms with a knowing, gentle smile. “To the village inland?”

Sanji hadn’t answered. He had simply adjusted the collar of his black suit, smoothed his jacket, and walked down the gangplank without looking back.

The walk through the forest was a blur of green and shadow. Every step forward felt heavy, as if the earth itself was trying to pull him back, or perhaps push him faster.

His pockets felt heavy; in the right one rested a small, neatly wrapped box containing a newly perfected lemon-blueberry tart, baked with ingredients he’d spent the last three days obsessively sourcing across three different islands.

When he finally reached the edge of the village, the familiar wooden houses and the scent of jasmine came into view.

His heart hammered against his ribs in a way it hadn’t even during battles with warlords or emperors.

What if she turned him away? What if her roots really had taken hold, and there was no room left for a wandering pirate cook?

He walked down the main dirt path, his leather shoes crunching softly on the gravel. The village was quiet, most of the children resting indoors during the afternoon heat.

And then, near the community garden by the edge of the forest, he saw her.

Y/N was kneeling by a patch of red tomatoes, her back to him. She was wearing a simple cotton tunic, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail, hands caked in dirt as she stared blankly at the ground.

Sanji stopped dead in his tracks. The air rushed out of his lungs.

For weeks, she had been nothing more than a ghost haunting his galley, a voice in the wind, a phantom scent of jasmine and rain. And now, here she was—flesh and blood, breathing the same air, real and tangible.

Hearing the sudden halt of footsteps, Y/N stiffened. She didn’t turn around immediately, assuming it was one of the local villagers or a child coming to ask for water.

“I’m coming,” she murmured, her voice tight as she began to stand up, brushing the dirt from her knees. “Just give me a sec—”

She turned.

And the words died in her throat.

Sanji stood there, the sunlight filtering through the canopy and catching the golden strands of his hair.

He looked tired—dark circles shadowed his blue eyes, and his posture carried the unmistakable weight of a man who hadn’t slept properly in a fortnight. In his hands, he held a simple white box tied with a red ribbon.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The wind whispered through the oak trees, carrying the scent of sea salt and tobacco directly to her senses.

“You…” Y/N breathed, her hand flying to cover her mouth, her eyes welling with sudden, hot tears. “Sanji-kun?”

Sanji let out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh, running a gloved hand through his blond bangs. He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Everything reminded me of you,” he confessed, his voice raw, stripped of all its usual playful bravado, carrying only the absolute, desperate truth of a man at his breaking point. “Every dish I cooked, every wave I watched, every damn cigarette I lit. It was driving me insane, Y/N.”

Y/N let out a ragged sob that was half-laughter, tears spilling over her lashes as she took two stumbling steps toward him, ignoring the dirt on her hands and clothes.

“You idiot,” she choked out, closing the remaining distance and throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. “I was going crazy too. Every time I smelled woodsmoke, every time I stirred a pot… I thought I was losing my mind.”

Sanji dropped the box to the grass—it landed softly, completely forgotten—and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest with a fierce, possessive intensity. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of jasmine and earth, letting the warmth of her body anchor him at last.

“I’m not asking you to give up your home,” Sanji whispered against her ear, his voice trembling slightly as his arms tightened around her. “And I can’t give up the sea. But… maybe we can figure out a way to bridge the distance. Because I can't spend another day drowning in memories of you when you're supposed to be right here.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look up into his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her dirt-stained fingers, leaving a smudge of dark earth against his skin. She smiled, a bright, radiant thing that chased away every shadow of the past weeks.

“You brought me a tart, didn't you?” she asked softly, her eyes shining.

Sanji managed a crooked, genuine smile, his blue eyes finally clear of the fog that had haunted them for so long.

“Naturally,” he murmured, leaning down to press his forehead gently against hers. “A master chef doesn’t visit his favorite critic empty-handed.”

And as they stood there beneath the dappled sunlight of the Oakhaven trees, the ghosts of distance and longing finally faded away, replaced by the only reality that mattered: the warmth of each other’s arms, real, permanent, and home. . . . .

Nami

To you, Nami was the most chill, supportive, and loving girlfriend ever. She was the wind beneath your wings, always encouraging you and offering a soft place to land after a long day. She never nagged you about who to talk to or where you should go, maintaining a trustworthy aura that made you feel completely secure and cherished. But for everyone else, the truth was far more terrifying. Nami's legendary greed didn't just apply to gold and berries; it extended with a fierce intensity to your affection and time. You were, in her mind, the most precious treasure she had ever acquired, and she guarded that treasure with a vigilance that bordered on the predatory.

Her jealousy was mostly silent and calculated. She didn't believe in making a scene in front of you because that would disrupt the peaceful and loving dynamic she had carefully cultivated. Instead, she preferred to play the long game. If you were at a bustling bar in a new port city and a stranger began to blatantly flirt with you - leaning in too close, touching your arm, or casting suggestive glances - Nami would simply smile and sip her drink, acting as if she's completely oblivious to the transgression. She would even encourage you to be polite, her voice honey-sweet and playfully relaxed, making you believe she was the most secure partner in the world.

The moment you excused yourself, perhaps to get another round of drinks or to use the restroom, her mask completely shattered. The second you were out of sight, the warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a gaze so icy it could freeze the surrounding ocean. She would lean toward the stranger, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss that carried the weight of a thousand storms, and then she would verbally dismantle them. She'd point out every flaw in their approach, threaten their wallet, or imply that they would find themselves mysteriously bankrupt by morning if they so much as breathed in your direction again. She tore into them with the kind of surgical precision that left the stranger shaking and utterly bewildered.

The moment she caught a glimpse of you returning however, that sharp, predatory edge vanished and the transition back to her "loving girlfriend" persona was instantaneous. She would beam at you, perhaps leaning in to give you a sweet, lingering kiss on the cheek, and her beautiful eyes would sparkle with fake innocence. To you, it looked like a spontaneous burst of affection; to the traumatized stranger sitting next to her, it was a triumphant marking of her territory. Nami loved the secret power of it, knowing she had successfully defended her claim while you remained blissfully unaware of the carnage she left in her wake.

This possessiveness often further manifested in small, subconscious physical habits when you two were in crowds. While she seemed relaxed outwardly, her hands were always finding a way to tether you to her. She'd slide her arm through yours or wrap her arms firmly around your waist, thus pulling you flush against her side. To you, it felt like she just wanted you close. In reality, she was sending a clear, non-verbal signal to every single person in the vicinity: This one is mine, and I am not in the mood for negotiations.

Even with the crew, Nami's jealousy sometimes prevailed, though more quietly and not as intensely. If she noticed another crew member taking up too much of your attention - perhaps Luffy dragging you off to god knows where or Sanji spending too long showering you with gifts - she wouldn't snap at you or anything like that. No, she would instead find a way to simply… "redirect" them. She might suddenly remember an urgent chore Luffy needed to do or a kitchen emergency that required Sanji's immediate attention. She cleared the field with a smile and a polite request, therefore ensuring that the path back to her was the only one left open for you. Of course, she didn't want you to feel restricted. She just wanted to be the center of your universe, and she was more than happy to manipulate the environment to ensure it stayed that way.

Sanji

Sanji was a man who loved you with a crushing, all-consuming reality, and because of that, his jealousy always hit him like a physical blow to the gut. However, his chivalry was his strongest armor. He viewed the idea of imposing his insecurities on you as an act of cruelty. To Sanji, you were a divine being, and the last thing he wanted was to stain your perception of him by appearing petty, possessive, or unstable in any way. He would rather burn in the fires of his own jealousy than make you feel burdened by his emotions.

When the jealousy struck, it was an internal war raging inside of him. Imagine a classic Straw Hat banquet inside a tavern or bar with music blaring, food piling high, and the atmosphere filled with laughter and dumb jokes. If someone from a neighboring crew or a local dignitary began to pay you an undue amount of attention, Sanji's world would basically collapse. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, a searing jealousy that made him want to kick the offender through the wall. His eyes would shadow, his cigarette almost falling out as he gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to swoop in and whisk you away.

But the moment you looked at him, the mask was back. He would beam at you with a look of pure adoration with his usual smooth and melodic voice. He'd glide over to you, not to interrupt the conversation, but to present you with a perfectly crafted appetizer or a drink tailored exactly to your taste. He used his service in a way that ensured he didn't have to fight for your attention with attention words or aggression, but with an overwhelming display of care. Sanji wanted the other person to realize, without him ever having to say a word, that no one in this world could possibly care for you with the passion that he did.

The real struggle always happened behind the scenes though. After the event, while you were visiting stalls in the vibrant market of the island, Sanji would maintain his composure, but the signs were there if you knew where to look. He'd be slightly more clingy than usual, his hand resting heavily on the small of your back, steering you with a gentle but firm authority. He wouldn't complain, but he might let out a heavy, dramatic sigh when he thought you weren't listening, or he might suddenly become intensely focused on the quality of a piece of produce, using the distraction to hide the way his lip quivered with repressed envy.

He often took his frustration out on the only person he could tolerate being miserable with: Zoro. After a day of suppressing his jealousy, he'd return to the galley and cook with a ferocity that was almost frightening. He would chop vegetables with lightning speed, his knife coming down on the board like a drumbeat of rage. If Zoro made a comment about his mood, Sanji would explode in a flurry of never-ending insults and kicks. In a way, their usual rivalry would work as a proxy of the jealousy he refused to show you. He screamed and sulked in the safety of the kitchen, purging the poison from his system so that when he stepped back into your presence, he could be the perfect, serene gentleman once again.

In the quiet moments, his jealousy manifested as a desperate need for reassurance, though he'd never ask for it directly. He would spend hours perfecting a dessert just for you, watching your expression with a hunger that was almost painful. When you told him it was the best thing you've ever tasted, or when you leaned your head against his shoulder after, the tension in his shoulder finally snapped. He didn't need you to know he was jealous, he just needed you to feel, in the silence of your touch, that he was still your favorite person. He would hold you a little tighter, bury his face in your hair, and let out a shaky breath, content to suffer in silence as long as you were happy.

Penguin

Penguin was not a man of grand gestures or loud declarations. His love was a steady pulse, much like the humming of the engines of the Polar Tang. Because he served as one of Law's most trusted officers, he had developed a disciplined mind and a keen eye for detail. He didn't miss the subtle shifts in a room, like the way a stranger's gaze lingered a second too long on you, or the specific, predatory tilt of someone's head when they tried to charm you. His jealousy wasn't a sudden explosion of rage but a slow, cold realization that settled in his chest, a quiet alarm that told him his most precious person was being targeted.

While Shachi might react with loud indignation or dramatic jealousy, when Penguin was jealous, he remained the picture of level-headed composure he always was. If someone was flirting with you in his presence, he wouldn't interrupt with a scene or a shout. Instead, he became a silent, immovable shadow. He would slide into your personal space with a seamless grace, placing himself just slightly between you and the other person. He didn't need to say anything aggressive, he simply chose to exist as a physical barrier, his expression neutral and eyes observant, making it clear that while he was being polite, he was also calculating exactly how much of a threat the other person actually posed.

He was a master of the art of "logical intervention." Penguin didn't fight for your attention with flashiness or passion, no, he made sure to secure it through necessity. If he felt a conversation was leaning too far into flirtation, he would suddenly "remember" a task that required your immediate attention. "The Captain is asking for the inventory reports as fast as possible" or "We need to double-check the navigation charts before we dive." He delivered these lines with a flat and deadpan tone that made the interruption seem purely professional. To you, he was just being his usual, reliable self; to the other person, it was an almost surgical removal from your orbit, executed in a way that left no room for argument.

Beneath the calm exterior, Penguin did actually struggle with a quiet, nagging insecurity. In a world filled with flamboyant pirates, monstrous powers, and larger-than-life personalities, he knew he was rather plain. He was the reliable officer, the one who got the job done on the Polar Tang without fanfare. This made his jealousy an almost desperate force, because he always worried that the stability he offered might be boring compared to the chaos of the Grand Line. This lead him to express his possessiveness through an overwhelming level of care. He would anticipate your needs before you even voiced them, immediately having your favorite drink ready, ensuring your coat was warm, or handling a tedious chore Law gave you so that you can rest. By doing that he was hoping that by becoming the one thing you cannot live without, he rendered all other suitors irrelevant.

After a day of playing the stoic professional who took care of you and was cracking a few jokes here and there all while simmering inside, he would retreat to the crew's quarters and engage in a bout of sarcastic banter with Shachi. He might complain to his friend about the lack of manners of the New World or make dry remarks about the idiocy of the people they had encountered. Shachi knew exactly what this meant, and the two of them would spend an hour teasing each other. This was the usual process, using their banter as a pressure valve to release the jealousy Penguin refused to show you. He used humor as a shield, masking his vulnerability with a layer of practiced wit.

Only in the absolute privacy of your shared space would the mask finally slip. The tension left his shoulders in an exhausted slump, and he became unexpectedly needy. He wouldn't admit he was jealous - he found the admission too vulnerable - but he would wrap himself around you in a crushing embrace. He'd bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as if it was the only thing that can quiet the noise in his head. He didn't need words of reassurance. The physical proof that you were still there, still his, and still choosing the steady love of a man who would move the ocean if he could just to keep you safe was more than enough for him.

Caesar Clown

For Caesar, jealousy was not an emotion more than it was a personal affront to his ego. He viewed himself as the pinnacle of human intelligence and power, and by extension, he viewed you as the most prized acquisition in his collection. To Caesar, you were a masterpiece, the kind of treasure that reflected his own greatness. Therefore, when someone flirted with you, he didn't just feel jealousy; he felt a sense of theft. He didn't understand why someone would think they were entitled to touch, speak or even look at something that belonged to him.

However, Caesar had a very specific image of himself: the Great Genius, the untouchable leader, meaning that he believed screaming in a jealous fit to be beneath a man of his stature. He didn't want to look like a common thug who was insecure about his partner, so he maintained a facade of arrogant boredom. If someone was hitting on you in his presence, he'd simply laugh - his usual loud, obnoxious shishishi - and make a condescending comment about the other person's lack of intellect or status. He would treat the rival like an insignificant insect, dismissing them with a wave of his hand while keeping an arm draped possessively over your shoulders.

The real retribution happened the moment you were out of the room. Caesar didn't do "subtle." The second you left to attend a task, he would corner the offender. Instead of using words alone, he might let a small, concentrated cloud of poisonous gas swirl around the person's feet, just enough to make them cough and panic, or he'd loom over them, his voice booming with a theatrical and menacing intensity. He would lecture them on the sheer audacity of their actions, reminding them exactly who he was and what he was capable of. He wanted them to be terrified of the very idea of looking at you.

His jealousy was deeply tied to his need for dominance. He loved the contrast between the way he treated you and the way he treated everyone else. He would brag about you to others, not out of sweetness, but as a way of showing off. "Look at her! Only a genius like me could have captured such a specimen!" By framing your relationship as a trophy of his success, he warned others that attempting to steal you was essentially trying to rob a god.

Despite his arrogance, Caesar had a hidden, neurotic streak. He was terrified of the idea of being replaced by someone better or smarter, which lead to a habit of constant and subtle testing. He might ask you your opinion on a complex chemical formula just to see if you were still paying attention to him, or he'd demand demand your undivided attention during a rant about his latest invention. He used his brilliance as a lure, trying to ensure you were so dazzled by his mind that no one else could ever possibly compare.

His mouth travelled from there to your cheek, then the corner of your lips, offering each touch with such lingering sweetness that you suspected he had devised an entire sequence before you woke. You interrupted it by curling a hand around the back of his neck and drawing him into the kiss he had been carefully avoiding, warm mouth parting beneath yours in a quiet sound of surprise before he softened completely. Sanji always kissed as though it were something between reverence and hunger, but there was no desperation in him now, only the easy familiarity of his thumb brushing beneath your jaw and your fingers finding the soft hair at his nape.

“Breakfast is getting cold,” he warned against your mouth, although the arm slipping around your waist made no sincere attempt to release you.

“You’re the one distracting me.”

“A vicious slander on your birthday.” His smile touched your lips before he kissed you once more, too pleased with the accusation to defend himself properly. “I have been the soul of restraint.”

“You’ve kissed me four times.”

“It was meant to be five, but somebody got impatient.”

You allowed him the fifth on principle, followed by a sixth because Sanji had never understood restraint where affection was concerned and you had no particular desire to teach him. When he finally drew back, his eyes were softer than the morning light, the fondness in them so open that it made something behind your ribs ache pleasantly. Only then did he settle the tray across your lap and present his work with a flourish that would have suited a royal banquet rather than breakfast in bed: eggs folded into silken layers, crisp toast spread with a savoury butter fragrant with herbs, fruit arranged in jewelled crescents around a small pastry with a glazed berry flower at its centre.

“Is that a strawberry?” you asked, examining the tiny red petals.

“It was a strawberry,” Sanji said gravely. “It had greater ambitions.”

Your laughter rewarded him more generously than any compliment could have done. He watched you take the first bite with the attentive stillness of a man awaiting a verdict upon his soul, and although the quiet hum of pleasure you made eased the faint tension around his mouth, he disguised his relief by reaching to brush an imaginary crumb from your lower lip.

“It’s perfect,” you told him, catching his hand before he could retreat and kissing the pads of his fingers. “How long have you been awake?”

“That’s not a birthday question.”

“Sanji.”

“It’s not important,” he corrected, which meant long enough to make the pastry, arrange the fruit and somehow clean the galley before anybody else stirred. “Today is for you. Your sole responsibility is to be adored with good grace and an excellent appetite.”

You narrowed your eyes at him over the rim of your cup. “And what are you going to do?”

His answering smile was dazzling, guileless and therefore deeply suspicious. “Whatever is necessary.”

That promise revealed its true scale slowly. By the time you emerged onto the deck, the rest of the crew had already been recruited into what appeared to be a highly organised campaign against the possibility of your lifting a finger. Nami intercepted you before you could so much as glance towards the rigging and informed you that your chores had been redistributed; Usopp presented you with an official birthday medal constructed from painted wood, ribbon and at least one bottle cap; Chopper had made a card whose glitter migrated immediately onto your clothes and remained there for the rest of the day. Even Zoro, sprawled in a patch of sun with his arms folded behind his head, opened one eye long enough to tell you that the cook had threatened bodily harm against anyone who allowed you to work.

“He held a meeting,” Nami confided, amusement curving her mouth as she passed you a chilled glass already garnished with a slice of fruit. “There was a timetable.”

“It wasn’t a timetable,” Sanji called from the galley door without needing to have heard the beginning of the conversation. “It was a carefully constructed schedule of contingencies.”

“For a birthday?”

“For Luffy.”

From somewhere inside came an indignant shout, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a cupboard being opened and Sanji disappearing through the doorway with murder in his eyes. Whatever battle followed was brief. He returned a minute later with his tie slightly crooked, a dusting of flour along one cheek and an empty plate in hand, while Luffy could be heard complaining that three decoy sandwiches constituted deliberate emotional cruelty.

“You planned decoy sandwiches?” you asked.

“A chef always anticipates disaster.” Sanji set the plate aside and slipped his clean hand around your waist, drawing you near enough to kiss your forehead. The gesture was so casual that he had begun turning back towards the kitchen before you caught him by the lapel and pressed your mouth to his flour-dusted cheek. His expression melted at once, annoyance with his captain vanishing beneath a blush he attempted to hide by straightening his tie. “Darling, if you keep doing that, lunch will be late.”

“I was under the impression the timetable accounted for distractions.”

“Contingencies,” he insisted, though he kissed your knuckles before returning to the galley. “And you are not a distraction. You’re the entire purpose.”

That was how Sanji moved through the day—always briefly at your side and always on his way to do something else for you. A favourite snack appeared when breakfast had faded into a pleasant memory, a cup was pressed into your hand before you noticed the heat, a cushion materialised behind your back while you sat listening to one of Brook’s songs. Whenever Sanji passed, affection came with him; a kiss laid against your hair, fingers brushing yours, his palm resting at the small of your back as he leaned down to ask whether you needed anything. Each touch was warm and instinctive, a language the two of you had long ago ceased needing to translate, but he never remained within reach for long. There was always another pan to check, another secret to protect, another part of the evening requiring his attention.

You found him in the galley during the late afternoon, standing amid an ordered chaos of bowls, knives and simmering pots. Golden light streamed across the counters while steam clouded the windows, catching around him until Sanji appeared to have been conjured from warmth itself. His hands moved with their familiar certainty, one steadying a bowl while the other folded something pale and glossy together with such care that the kitchen seemed to breathe according to his rhythm.

The moment he saw you, however, his body shifted to obscure the counter. “You can’t be in here.”

“I haven’t seen anything.”

“Your eyes are open.”

“I came to find you, not the food.”

The answer stopped him more effectively than any command could have done. For an instant, Sanji merely looked at you while the old question crossed his face—what had he done, what remained unfinished, what more could you possibly require?—but you stepped into the fragrant heat before he could ask it and slipped your arms around his waist and the tension eased from him gradually. He rested his cheek against your hair, flour clinging to his clothes and his hands held carefully away from you so that whatever he had been preparing would not stain yours.

“You found me,” he said at last, the words softened by a smile you could hear.

“I did.” You leaned back far enough to examine his face and wiped the flour from his cheek with your thumb, only to kiss the same place once it was clean. “Am I allowed five minutes?”

Sanji glanced towards the stove as though consulting it. “Three.”

“Four.”

“Three and a half, and I reserve the right to stir something.”

He managed almost four. You remained wrapped around him while he checked a sauce one-handed, and when the timer sounded he turned in your embrace, cupped your face and kissed you with a tenderness that made the whole warm room seem to narrow around his mouth. Even then he was the one who drew away first, apology and promise mingling in his expression as he pressed one final kiss to your brow.

“Tonight,” he told you. “I’m all yours tonight.”

“You’re all mine now.”

Something fragile and astonished flickered through his smile before he covered it with another kiss. “Then consider this a temporary loan to the kitchen.”

Evening descended softly over the Sunny. The sea darkened from blue to violet and then to something almost black, its surface holding the last light in long, coppery fractures, while the first stars appeared above the mast. Sanji came for you once the rest of the crew had settled into the comfortable sprawl that followed supper, freshly washed and dressed in a dark suit, his hair still faintly damp and his tie selected with the same consideration he had given every other detail of the day.

He offered you his hand with formal elegance, but the kiss he placed against your palm was intimate enough to undo the performance. “May I steal you away?”

“You’ve had the crew guarding me all day. I think that legally counts as possession already.”

“Protection,” Sanji corrected as he laced his fingers through yours. “There are dangerous men aboard this ship.”

Luffy protested through a mouthful of food. Zoro suggested that you take the cook and keep him, and the argument that began behind you followed the two of you only as far as the stairs before the night folded over it.

Sanji led you towards the stern, where lantern light gleamed among the leaves of Nami’s tangerine trees. A table had been laid beneath their boughs, dressed in white linen and warmed by small golden lamps whose flames stirred whenever the sea wind passed through. There were no extravagant bouquets, only a narrow glass holding a few sprigs of kitchen herbs and several blossoms gathered after they had fallen, their fragrance mingling with salt, citrus and the faint trace of Sanji’s cologne. Beyond the rail, the ocean surrounded everything, vast and dark and endless, so that the little table seemed to exist in a world created for two.

Sanji watched you take it in with carefully disguised nervousness. He had faced assassins, monsters and impossible odds with less apprehension than he displayed while waiting for you to decide whether his lanterns were beautiful enough.

“Sanji…” you breathed, turning back towards him.

“If the wind is too strong, I can move everything inside. I also considered the aquarium bar, but the light at this hour—”

You silenced him with a kiss. It began as a simple press of your mouth to his, intended to quiet the worried explanation, but Sanji’s hands found your waist and held you with such immediate tenderness that you lingered there, smiling against him when he exhaled softly through his nose.

“I love it,” you murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

His shoulders loosened beneath your hands. “Not half as beautiful as the person it was made for.”

“Finally. There he is.”

“Who?”

“The man who has been suspiciously restrained all day.”

Sanji drew out your chair with a smile. “My love, you have yet to witness the full force of my devotion.”

The meal made good on the threat. Its first course arrived in delicate pastry shells, crisp enough to shatter beneath your fork, filled with slow-roasted sweetness and soft cheese sharpened by an herb oil you recognised after the first taste. You had paused over the same fragrant leaves at an island market weeks ago, crushing one between your fingers and holding it beneath Sanji’s nose while he tried to negotiate with a merchant. You had forgotten the moment before the Sunny ever left the harbour; he had not.

The clear amber broth that followed carried another memory. A cold night watch, your hands wrapped around a bowl he had brought up without being asked, and the particular spice you had praised before stealing the last dumpling from his own portion. The main course was arranged around crisp-skinned fish glazed with tangerine, bright with citrus before yielding to butter, pepper and a low sweetness that gathered all the other flavours together. Every plate was beautiful, but none had been designed merely to impress. They were built from fragments of you—a passing comment, a preference expressed once, the things you reached for first and those you saved until last. Sanji had turned his memory into a menu and laid the proof of his attention before you course by course.

“You remembered all of this?” you asked when he set the next plate down.

“Of course.” He spoke as though there were nothing remarkable in it, adjusting the angle of the dish before pouring more wine into your glass. “You liked the sauce, but you said the original needed something acidic. You were right.”

“That was months ago.”

Sanji looked almost offended. “I’m hardly going to forget an observation from the most discerning palate aboard the Sunny.”

“Robin is the most discerning palate aboard the Sunny.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with Robin.”

He bent to kiss your cheek before removing the previous plate, avoiding your attempt to catch him by moving just beyond reach. The empty chair opposite you remained untouched. It had been laid like the rest of the table, complete with a plate, a glass and a folded napkin, but Sanji continued to orbit the meal rather than join it, serving each course and attending to every need before you could voice it.

When he reached for your glass again, you closed your hand around his wrist.

“Sit with me.”

His fingers stilled around the bottle. “There’s only one more savoury course, and then dessert. I’ll sit with you afterwards.”

“You said that you were mine tonight.”

“I am.” Sanji smiled and turned his hand within your grasp so that his thumb could stroke the inside of your wrist. “That’s why I’m ensuring everything is perfect.”

“You’ve spent the entire day giving me everything I could possibly want.” Your fingers slipped down until they threaded through his, keeping him beside you when habit urged him towards the kitchen. “Now I want you.”

The words quieted him. Sanji’s eyes widened slightly, and beneath the warm light a faint flush spread across his cheekbones, not the theatrical swoon he sometimes performed but something smaller and far more vulnerable.

“My love,” he said softly, “you have me.”

“Then let me have you here.” You nodded towards the waiting place opposite. “Not standing beside the table and disappearing between every course. I want you to eat with me. I want to talk to you without having to negotiate with a saucepan for your attention.”

“That saucepan drives a hard bargain.”

“Sanji.”

He looked from you to the empty chair as though he had only just understood why he had placed it there. Some hopeful part of him must have imagined sitting when he set the table for two, but wanting and permitting himself were different arts, and Sanji had always been more practised at sacrifice than receiving. He knew how to put himself between hunger and everyone he loved; hunger had rules he understood, demanding only heat, patience and a full plate. Love asked him to sit down with empty hands and trust that his place would remain.

Totto Land had left old arithmetic scratched raw beneath his skin, all those cruel calculations of blood and worth and usefulness. You had no intention of inviting them to your birthday table. Your hand was not tallying what Sanji had given or measuring him against the perfection of his meal. It simply held his.

“Please,” you said, gentling the word with a kiss to his knuckles. “Celebrate with me.”

The resistance left him in a long breath. “It’s impossible to refuse you anything today.”

“You say that as though I haven’t been refused entry to the galley twice.”

“For your own good.” Sanji finally lowered himself into the chair opposite you, but before he could settle into formality, you drew it around the small table until his knee rested against yours. “Darling, this completely destroys the symmetry.”

“It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to destroy things.”

“I’ll be sure to inform Luffy that you’ve adopted his philosophy.”

You served a portion onto Sanji’s plate before he could stop you. The mild horror on his face made you laugh, and when he protested that the presentation had been designed for one direction, you lifted a forkful towards his mouth.

“Open.”

“You cannot serve the chef his own food.”

“I believe you just said you couldn’t refuse me.”

Sanji regarded you with the pained dignity of a man defeated by his own romantic declarations, but he accepted the bite. His eyes remained on yours as he tasted it, amusement easing into something tender when you asked, with exaggerated seriousness, whether it met his standards.

“It’s excellent,” he decided. “Whoever prepared this is clearly a genius.”

“And very handsome.”

“Beautiful, generous and blessed with flawless judgement. I knew there was a reason I adored you.”

The meal changed once he became part of it. Perfection loosened into pleasure, your carefully folded napkins shifted askew, the food was passed between you, and Sanji stopped watching for what might be missing long enough to enjoy what was already there. His hand frequently found yours upon the table, fingertips tracing idle circles over your knuckles while he told you about the afternoon’s disasters. Apparently Luffy discovered the second set of decoy sandwiches, Usopp nearly set fire to a ribbon, Zoro had been entrusted with one simple task and performed it in the most obstructive way possible. You laughed until your face hurt, and Sanji’s own laughter warmed the spaces between the lanterns, lighter than any sound he had made while serving you.

There were moments when that old disbelief returned, quiet enough that someone less familiar with him might have missed it. It surfaced when you placed the best piece of fish onto his plate, when you refilled his glass before your own, when your thumb brushed a crumb from his mouth with the same instinctive care he had shown you all day. Each time, you answered without making a lesson of it. You squeezed his hand, you leaned into the arm he draped around your chair, you kissed his cheek while he was still smiling and let him discover, again and again, that affection did not vanish when he had nothing left to serve.

Dessert arrived beneath a silver cover, which Sanji lifted with enough ceremony to reveal a small cake finished with smooth icing and delicate decoration. Its flavour had been chosen with the same intimate certainty as the rest of the meal, but at its centre stood only one slender candle, the flame leaning towards you in the breeze.

“One candle?” you asked. “Have I somehow become younger?”

“One is enough to carry a wish.” Sanji shielded the flame with his hand as it trembled, his fingers glowing red and gold around it. “To mark every year the world has been fortunate enough to contain you, I would need a much bigger table, and Nami would charge me for the additional deck space.”

“Did she charge you for this deck space?”

“The finances behind an evening of romance should remain mysterious.”

You laughed, but the wish came to you before you closed your eyes. It was not for the day to last forever; Sanji had already taught you too well that sweetness mattered because it could be consumed, leaving warmth and memory where hunger had been. You wished instead for more mornings, more meals allowed to go cold beneath unnecessary kisses, more evenings in which he sat beside you rather than hovering at the edge of his own happiness. You wished for enough ordinary days that Sanji might one day stop being surprised to find himself at the centre of the things you cherished.

The flame disappeared beneath your breath. Sanji applauded softly and leaned over to kiss your forehead, lingering there as the faint ribbon of smoke curled between you.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Surely the chef responsible for the cake is entitled to privileged information.”

“No. But I’ll give you some.”

Sanji divided the first slice between you, though sharing from one plate soon became easier than pretending you wanted separate portions. A smear of icing found its way to the corner of his mouth; when you collected it with your thumb, he caught your hand and kissed the sweetness from your skin, transforming mischief into courtship with the effortless grace he brought to everything. You kissed him again simply because you could, quick and fond, and his smile followed you when you drew away.

“What information?” he reminded you.

“I’ll answer a different question.”

Sanji considered this while settling more comfortably beside you, one arm stretched behind your chair. “Alright. What was your favourite part?”

He glanced towards the cake as he asked it, clearly expecting you to choose between dessert and dinner, perhaps already rehearsing some objection to your answer based upon technical execution. You rested your hand against his chest, feeling the calm beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You.”

For once, Sanji had no immediate reply. His eyes searched yours as though the word concealed some trick of phrasing he had not yet unravelled.

“My love, I’m not one of the courses.”

“I know. You were my favourite part of my day.”

“But the breakfast—”

“Was wonderful.” You slid your hand from his chest to the nape of his neck, keeping him close when embarrassment encouraged him to look away. “The meal was perfect. The lanterns are beautiful, the cake is my favourite, and I loved everything the crew did. But every part of today that mattered had you in it. You smiled at me first thing this morning. You kissed me every time you saw me. You had flour on your face when I came looking for you, and you sat down when I asked because I wanted to share this with you, not just receive it from you.”

Sanji’s mouth softened, though uncertainty still lingered at its edges. “I wanted to give you a perfect day.”

“You did.” Your fingers moved gently through the hair at his nape. “Not because everything was perfect. Because you were here.”

“I would have been here regardless.”

“I know. That’s why you’re my favourite.”

The lantern flames moved in the breeze, scattering gold across his face. Sanji had been called many things in his life, some spoken with love and others intended to carve kindness out of him, but favourite seemed to reach a place less guarded than praise. It asked for none of the names he had inherited or rejected. It required no proof of strength, no usefulness, no beautiful plate presented at the proper temperature. It meant only Sanji, the cook, the dreamer, the infuriatingly selfless man with smoke in his clothes and gentleness in his hands, wanted in his entirety.

He lifted one of those hands to your face. All day, his kisses had been little gifts scattered through the hours—a touch against your temple, your cheek, your knuckles, each one sweet and fleeting because another task waited for him. This time there was nowhere else he intended to be, so his thumb swept beneath your jaw as he drew you closer, pausing with his breath warm across your lips.

“May I kiss my favourite person properly?” he asked.

“Please.”

Sanji’s mouth met yours with exquisite tenderness. The first touch was slow, almost unbearably soft, before your arms circled his neck and the kiss deepened into something warmer, fuller, carrying the faint sweetness of cake and citrus between you. His hand remained cradled against your cheek while the other settled at your waist, holding you close without haste or demand, and when you kissed him again he answered with a quiet sound that seemed to gather every word he could not fit into the space between your mouths.

The sea rolled darkly beyond the ship’s rail. Somewhere above, the sails shifted, carrying the Sunny onwards beneath a sky crowded with stars, but Sanji no longer looked towards the table for something else to offer. He rested his forehead against yours when the kiss finally softened, eyes closed and smile unguarded as you held him in the warmth he had spent the entire day creating.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered once more.

“You’ve said that already.”

“I intend to keep saying it until midnight.”

You kissed the curve of his smile. “Then stay here. I don’t want to miss any of them.”

Sanji’s arms tightened around you, and for once he allowed himself to be held without reaching for anything else to give. “There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be.”

This was totally wrong.

Did you steal a pillow right from Sanji's bed? Yes. And had you spent every night since burying your face in said pillow, fingering yourself as you imagined your man's hand in place of yours? Absolutely.

But something about humping the thing felt like it was a little too far. A little too dirty.

You couldn't bring yourself to care all that much though. Even though his scent had faded, it still belonged to him. And having at least something of Sanji's between your thighs was enough to have you dripping.

His sweetness and desire to not rush the physical part of your relationship was so endearing. But you had needs. And it was hard to ignore them when everything the cook did was so tempting to you.

Any sense of shame faded away with that first roll of your hips, your achy cunt dragging against the fabric. “Ah!”

You started out slow, indulging yourself in a little fantasy. Sanji lying beneath you, blond hair a mess against your pillows. One ocean blue eye shining up at you as he looked at you like you were everything, sweet praises falling from his lips while you rode his throbbing cock.

“Mm baby…”

Little did you know, the man himself was heading straight for your room.

You had given Luffy the last bit of your dinner and left before anyone else, claiming you just wanted to get some rest. But of course, Sanji couldn't help worrying about you. It wasn't like you to not finish your dinner, especially since he'd made your favorite dish that night.

He couldn't stomach the idea of you being unwell, of his sweet girl going a second longer without his care if she was in need.

Light spread from the crack at the bottom of your door, so you were most likely awake. He raised his fist and knocked on the wood. “My love? Can I come in?”

“Sanji.”

It wasn't exactly an answer to his question, but something about your tone was off enough to have him even more concerned.

Sanji pushed your door open and…well, he couldn't fully process what he was looking at besides…

You.

Naked.

You were naked.

The familiar sensation of popping blood vessels sent his hand flying up to his nose, pressing the back of it underneath his nostrils. Not that that would do much. “O-oh shit.”

Because he realized that not only were you naked, your perfect breasts in full view, but you had a pillow between your legs, with a wet spot on the fabric from where you'd been rubbing yourself on it.

You weren't ill at all, you were pleasuring yourself.

Sanji groaned, his already rock hard cock twitching at the thought.

He needed to go. To allow you your privacy and not be the filthy fucking pervert that he was. But he just couldn't move.

You found yourself equally frozen, eyes wide and hand gripping the pillow even tighter. Your heart pounded in your chest as a very different heat settled in your skin. The shame was back in full force, and all it did was make your clit throb even more.

You could've covered yourself up. Hid what you were doing. Told him to leave.

But that wasn't really what you wanted, and you could see from the bulge in his trousers that he felt the same way.

So you maintained eye contact and slowly started to move your hips again.

An invitation.

One that he gladly accepted.

Sanji moaned as he closed the door and leaned back against it, watching as your body moved so sinfully. His hand dropped to the side and blood trickled down to his lips. He just wanted to get closer, to get a better view and maybe even touch that perfect skin of yours, but he wouldn't move. Not unless you asked him to. He had to be a gentleman here, no matter how much he ached for you.

The friction against your clit made your breath hitch. Sanji was watching you. Hard cock and bloodied nose. Face flushed red, eyes wild. You needed him near you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” you sighed, brow scrunched in pleasure.

Sanji nearly collapsed to the floor then and there. He barely managed to stumble over to your bed before falling to his knees at the edge of it, his eyes never once leaving your face the whole way there.

Now that he was close, they traveled down the curve of your neck, over your lovely breasts and hard nipples, across your soft tummy, down to your cunt as it glided over the fabric. Each pass added to the damp spot, your pussy glistening like the precious treasure it was.

And finally, he noticed…

Holy shit.

He started wheezing a little. “Is that…my pillow?”

He knew it was, but he still couldn't quite believe it. He hadn't thought too hard about a pillow going missing. If only he'd known.

“Mhm. You're not mad, are you?” You asked through whimpers, already knowing the answer. After all, you were aware that he had his own perversions when it came to you.

You didn't even know the half of it.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Sanji gripped at your comforter, barely hanging on by a thread. “I could never be mad at you. Especially not for this.”

You whined, lip between your teeth as you kept up the slow, steady pace. Part of you wanted to go harder and faster, to find that release you needed so bad. What you wanted more than that was to make this last, because having him right there watching felt way too good.

“Sanji,” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Sanji resisted the urge to palm his cock through his trousers, knuckles turning white as he held on tighter to your blanket. But with his pretty girl like this, it was getting harder to hold back his hunger for you. And that was something he was all too familiar with, since he'd been longing for you from the moment you met. “Look at you. So beautiful.”

Beautiful was an understatement. Even fully clothed, you were radiant. A goddess. And now that you were completely exposed like this, it was a wonder he was even still conscious. He was glad for that though, because he didn't want to miss even a second of this.

“Darling,” he said softly, looking up at you with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. You wondered if he had any clue just how heartachingly gorgeous he was. You'd told him so many times. “I can give you something better than a pillow to rub your pretty pussy on. What do you say?”

Please say yes, please say yes.

You didn't even have to think about it, your head just nodded furiously as you stopped rocking. “Yeah, I want it.”

Sanji had never moved so fast as he sprung up from the floor, taking his place on your bed. Back against the headboard, he spread his legs and patted his thigh. “Come here, angel.”

With little grace, you abandoned the soiled pillow and climbed onto his lap, straddling his left thigh. But before you put your weight down, you managed to stop yourself. “I'll ruin your pants. Are you sure?”

Your breasts were right in his face, but Sanji still managed to look you in the eye. “God, yes.”

As he felt your warm cunt through the fabric of his pants, Sanji had to wonder if he was dreaming. It would explain how he got here, with his sweetheart so needy and using him to get off.

You moved a bit faster than you had with the pillow, unable to control yourself with Sanji's muscled thigh flexing against you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, but you noticed that his hands were pinned to the side and grabbing your sheet, grip getting tighter with every rock of your hips.

He loved holding you and never hesitated to do it, but this was an entirely new situation. Before you could say anything, he managed to ask, “Can I touch you? Please?”

So sweet. So considerate. So cute.

You answered by taking his right hand and putting it on your hip, and placing a hand on the back of his head to pull his face into your chest.

Sanji wasted no time taking a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp as his tongue worked the little bud. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated against your skin, his voice muffled but no less sweet as his blood smeared on your skin.

He reached his free hand up and cupped your other breast, giving it a little squeeze. Those perfect breasts that he'd been obsessing over for two years were bared right in front of him, and your sweet pussy was soaking his pant leg more and more with each passing second. It took everything he had not to cum in his pants right then. But he wanted to cum with you as he watched you fall apart on his lap.

With the way you were moaning, he wasn't positive he could last that long.

Your thighs ached as you started moving a little faster, your clit throbbing even harder as Sanji played with your tits. That familiar sensation kept building fast, you couldn't stop it. Not with him touching you like that and muttering sweet words into your chest.

“I'm close,” you gasped, fingers buried in his blond locks to keep him near. As if he wanted to be anywhere else. “Fuck, I'm‐”

“Come for me, angel.” He pulled back enough to watch you, his warm breath against your chest making you shiver. “Need you to make a mess on me. Please.”

Sanji got his wish, your movements becoming more frantic as your orgasm washed over you, jaw slack while sweet cries of his name filled the room. A fresh flood of your warmth soaked through his trousers and his eyes rolled back as he came moaning with you, his cock spurting and wetting the crotch of his pants.

Slowly, you came to a stop, body trembling as you held him to your chest. Sanji nuzzled your breast, mind still hazy from his own orgasm. You hadn't even touched him, but it still felt like heaven. If he ever did have that honor, he might just pass away on the spot.

You ran your fingers through his golden hair and sighed. Even just that had felt better than what your imagination conjured up every time you fucked yourself to the thought of him. So much better.

“Sanji?” you almost whispered.

He looked up at you with sparkling blue eyes, so full of love and adoration. “Yes, my love?”

You leaned in and gently pressed your lips to his.

Sanji gasped as if you had never kissed him before, grip tightening a little on your hip. No, this…this was heaven. He reached his other hand up to cradle your jaw, mouth moving with your own. With your hand on his chest, you could feel his heart speeding up at the touch of your lips.

He chased your kiss when you broke away, shivering when your hand moved to his shoulder and your fingertips brushed his neck. “Sanji…I need more. Are you ready for that?”

He was nodding furiously before you could even finish, like you might take it back if he didn't answer quickly enough. His gentlemanly plan to wait and make things perfect for you had gone out the window in favor of his long burning desire for you and the fact that you clearly wanted him right now. “Yes, yes I need it too. I'm ready.” In fact, he was already hard again. How could he not be with your pretty form in his lap? “Let me take care of you. Let me taste you."

The thought of it sent another wave of arousal through you, and you managed to pull yourself away from him long enough to climb from his lap and lie down on the bed. He took the space between your legs, sitting back on his heels and just looking at you.

Sanji's fingertips ghosted up your hip and waist, eyes taking in every detail. Every mole, every mark, every scar. The curve of your shoulder, the little dip of your collarbone. The way your chest rose and fell as you watched him watch you, your nipples still hard and begging for more attention.

Normally, it would make you a little self-conscious to be stared at like this, but the love and heat in Sanji's eyes kept you open to him.

His hand trailed up to your cheek, gently brushing the warm skin as he leaned into you. “Do you have any idea how divine you are? How breathtaking?” You shook your head, even though he'd told you countless times, and he smiled, lips barely brushing yours. “I'll show you. I'll worship you, my love.”

“Please,” you breathed, and that was all he needed to hear before he kissed your jaw, down your neck. Your chest. Every bit of you he'd been drinking in just moments ago. Savoring the feel of your skin against him.

His mouth found a breast again, his treatment more purposeful and less desperate and sloppy than last time. Tongue working one nipple as his fingers rolled the other, you grabbed at his hair to keep him close. Sanji hummed happily, watching your pretty face as you squirmed just from having your tits played with. He never expected you'd be so sensitive, but he loved it and all the little sounds you let out.

True to his word, Sanji kissed practically every inch of you that he could reach, whispering sweet words that you couldn't quite hear, but that you could feel against your skin.

So by the time he was situated between your legs, you were begging for his mouth. For his fingers. For anything and everything.

“Shh, I've got you,” he said, soothingly rubbing your thighs where they rested on his shoulders. He couldn't exactly blame you though. The sight of your pussy ready and waiting for him, soaked and needy because of him, had him salivating. He'd imagined your taste so many times, how it would feel to bury his face there until you pulled him away from the overstimulation.

He didn't have to imagine that anymore.

Both of you moaned as he dragged his tongue all the way along your slit, tasting you for the first time. “You taste so sweet,” he breathed before going back in, moving his tongue through your folds and gathering up every bit of your slick that he could get.

You sighed, grip tightening in his hair as he explored your cunt, every swipe of his tongue sending pleasure up your spine. You looked down at him and realized he was watching you, both eyes visible from the way you held his hair back. His pupils were completely blown as they kept focused on you.

That sent you squirming beneath him again, so Sanji slung an arm across your hips to keep you in place. And he was glad for it, because the moment he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, you went wild bucking against him. You were already so sensitive from your first orgasm, so needy for him, that it didn't take much for you to cum hard all over his lips and chin.

Sanji drew out a few more orgasms from you with his mouth and fingers before you pulled him up to you, body twitching from the overstimulation. He didn't even have the chance to wipe your juices from his face, and you truly didn't give a shit as you pulled him in for a hard kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

He could've happily stayed like that, your sweet lips on his, your perfect body in his arms. But you pulled back and looked up at him, eyes just as desperate as his own. “I want you to make love to me. I need it. Please.”

Even if his whole gentlemanly plan hadn't been completely fucked the moment you started humping his thigh, he wouldn't have been able to say no to you. When had he ever?

“I'll give you everything you need, my love.”

You pulled him in again, shaking fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

Neither of you were sure exactly how much time had passed as you laid tangled together under the sheets, happily wrapped in one another's embrace as your heartbeats calmed.

Sanji kissed the top of your head, and you shifted to give him a sweet smile, pressing your own little kiss to his collarbone.

He reached up to stroke your face, smiling just as contentedly as you were. “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

“Amazing.” The pleasant ache between your legs and the sensation of his cum leaking out of you wouldn't have you feeling any other way. “You?”

“Better than ever.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, slightly swollen from his kisses. “Do you need anything? Water? A snack? I can-”

You shook your head. “I just need you to stay right here and hold me. That's all.”

“I can do that.” He wrapped his arms around you just a little bit tighter and sighed, satisfied.

Well, except for a certain question that was on his mind.

“So…my pillow, hm?”

He grinned even brighter when you hid your face against his chest in your shyness, feeling the warmth of your cheeks. “It smelled like you. It was yours.” You looked up at him again, only a tiny bit embarrassed now that the haze of lust had faded. “And I needed you so bad. You were driving me crazy at dinner.”

Your words had something stirring within him again. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “I kept you waiting too long. I'm sorry, darling.”

“That's okay.” You gave his hand a little squeeze. “You'll just have to make it up to me.”

“I will. For the rest of my life,” he vowed. And you knew he meant every single word.

“Could we…” you traced a fingertip over his chest “start on that now?”

𖤐 A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

So so SOOOO clingy. As soon as you're done he immediately collapses into cuddling. He just wants to be as close to you as possible.

After a few minutes of cuddling tho he will start to ask if you need anything. Will offer to get you water, run you a bath, cook you something if you're hungry, etc

If you’re feeling sore, he’s got you. We all know this man is good with his hands. He'll massage any of you're sore muscles and apologies if he was to rough

𖤐 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, his hands obviously. They're used for cooking you you're favorite meals, holding you close, and pleasuring you in any and all ways imaginable.

On you, he cant choose. He loves every part of you more than anything else, but if he had to it would be you're smile. He loves seeing you happy and the mere idea that you being happy is his doing? Best thing in the world for him

𖤐 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Sanji prefers to cum inside of you rather than anywhere else, but lets be real, he'd cum anywhere as long as you asked him to

if he can’t do it inside though he likes coming on your stomach

𖤐 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He'll never admit it but sanji gets jealous very easily. He's not proud of it but he cant help it. Seeing someone else flirting with you just makes his blood boil

Every time it happens he has to stop himself from just dragging you away, or worse going off on the person stealing your attention from him

𖤐 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Obviously he knows what sex is, he knows the basics, but that's about it.

He would be very nervous your first time and end up making a lot of mistakes. You'd defiantly have to guide him to show him what you like

But sanji is a pleaser at heart and he will spend HOURS studying and learning what you like to make sure he makes you feel as good as he possibly can from here on out

𖤐 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Maybe a little boring but Missionary, he just wants to see your face and be able to watch all the pretty expressions you make, he loves the intimacy of it.

A close second would be cowgirl. He always gets so transfixed on watching his cock disappear inside you. Though he always caves and pulls you into his chest so he can do the work for you

𖤐 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He'd definitely take sex very seriously, but he may let the occasional joke slip here and there.

He's almost never going to purposely try and be funny during though

𖤐 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sanji is the only man on the crew that canonically bathes daily, so trust he's well groomed. not in a "shaves everything down to nothing" kinda way, but he keeps things trimmed and neat

He does not give a FUCK if you have hair though. shaved? Cool! Not shaved? Cool! He's all up in there regardless

𖤐 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sanji is madly in love with you and he loves to make it known to you often, even outside of sex.

During sex he'll hold your hand, kiss you all over, whisper sweet things to you, literally all of it. He needs you to know that sex is special and that having it with you is even more so

𖤐 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you he did it basically whenever he had a chance

When he with you though, almost never. He doesn’t wanna jerk off to someone that isn’t you, but he doesn’t wanna jerk off to you without you knowing cause that makes him feel like a perv (not that he isnt but-). Hed much rather be with you than his hand

But if he’s THAT desperate… he might rub one out to the thought of you.

𖤐 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

PRAISEEEEEE (giving and reviving). He will sing your praises all day and night but the second you praise him? Oh baby he MELTS

Marks. He loves having you leave your mark on him and he will proudly show them off. Same goes for marking you

Hair pulling. Only receiving though, he'd be to worried that he'd hurt you to do it, but he absolutely loves when you do it to him

𖤐 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

On the merry, since no one but nami had their own room, he would be VERY hesitant about doing it on the ship. He doesn't want anyone else seeing you like that

If you caught him in the right mood he'd happily find one of the more secluded places on the ship to do it, but only late at night when he's sure no one else is awake. But 9 times out of 10 he'd want to wait till you've stopped at an island

Once the crew gets the Sunny though, and now he has his own room, it becomes his all time favorite place. Any surface in his room is fair game but usually its his bed

𖤐 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. That’s literally it. Doing anything, wearing anything, saying anything. Literally just ask and he’ll say yes.

That and domestic stuff with you, especially cooking. it just makes him all warm and fuzzy (and sometimes very horny).

𖤐 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that could hurt you, physically or verbally. His biggest fear is hurting you, so he’s never risking it. Ever. The furthest he'll go is biting you

Degrading is a hard no, giving and receiving. He could never say something mean to you on purpose, and he got enough of that growing up that he does NOT need it from his partner too.

Any restraints other than maybe your/his hands cuffed or tied

𖤐 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

GIVERRRRRRRR

If he could Sanji would spend the entire day between your thighs. He will not stop until you finish multiple times. He just loves your taste so much, literally addicted to you. He'd beg to go down on you. its one of his favorite pass times

Though he much prefers giving he'd never say no to receiving either. He'd be very gentle with you, letting you go at your own pace, holding your hair out of your face or just holding your cheek, sometimes when he gets too deep in it he will accidently pull your hair or push your head lower on him

𖤐 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

9 times out of 10 with sanji it's going to be very slow and sensual. just worshipping you as he goes, taking his time to feel every part of your body, deep strokes, tender kisses, and whispered murmurs of love.

but there is that 1% of the time, maybe luffy got into the fridge again, or zoro's been getting on his nerves a little too much, and he just REALLY needs some stress relief. He wouldn't really be rough but it would be fast and rushed. Though he always makes sure to take you soft and slow afterwards whenever it happens

𖤐 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies will never be sanji's preference, he wants to be able to take his time and worship you properly.

On the very rare occasion though you might be able to convince him, only when both of you are especilly desperate for eachother

𖤐 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sanji doesn't seem like a big risk taker, but he's totally game for experimenting

You want to try out a new position? He's totally down. A new kink? As long as it doesn't cross anyone's boundaries. He would also very much be one to bring up new things he wants to try, though he might be a bit shy about it

He might be ok with taking some risks, like making out in a place you could easily get caught, teasing you under the table, whispering filthy things in your ear in public, but thats about it

𖤐 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sanji has very good stamina, he’s not part of the monster trio for nothing. He can easily go multiple rounds back to back

Though he would much prefer to go 1-2 rounds where he can take his time with you than 4-5 rounds that end as quick as they started

𖤐 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn't own any, nor would he really care to use them i feel. he'd much rather make you feel good by himself then use something else

𖤐 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

sanji is a very fair man, he wants to give you anything and everything you could possibly desire and that very much extends to the bedroom. One little "please" from you and hes folding instantly almost every time

But that doesn't mean he cant be a tease sometimes. There's just something about you shivering beneath him, begging to be touched, that he cant get enough of. It never lasts long though, like i said he is very weak to your pleas

𖤐 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sanjji tries to be quiet and discreet, but ends up failing miserably every time. He moans, groans, grunts, whimpers, AND whines. the whole 9 yards.

Hes also a talker, he LOVEEES to talk you through it. Telling you how good you feel, how proud of you he is, how pretty you look, etc etc.

He does tend to muffle himself by burying his face in your neck or kissing you, he'd just much rather hear you then himself

𖤐 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He LIVES for when you tease him. He will become a whimpering, whiny mess the second you take control, and he doesn't even bother hiding how much he likes it.

𖤐 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long but more on the slender side.

6 inches soft, 7.5 inches hard, slightly curved up, small veins running all over it. His tip is VERY sensitive

𖤐 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man is the biggest yearner that has ever yearned. He is extremely easy to rile up. The want for you is always present and never goes away. actually loses his mind a little bit if you go more than a week without at least letting him go down on you

Though of course he can keep it in his pants if you're not in the mood

𖤐 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'll never let himself fall asleep before you, even if he's exhausted. he has to make sure you’re comfortable and all cleaned up before he'll let himself relax

Only when he knows you're fully asleep, he will fall asleep basically right after

🎍 Zoro felt proud when you asked to learn sword fighting from him. Training was a big past time of his, and you being there with him would make him happier than ever. Even if he didn’t show it too much, he smiled at you as he handed you the wooden practice swords.

🎍 What Zoro didn’t expect is how… bad you were at it. He knew he was leagues above you in skill, but you had the skills lesser than a child. The only way you could ever win against him, or catch him off guard at the least, was if he just stood there and didn’t have a practice sword. You were that bad at it.

🎍 He likes your drive, though. No matter how much you mess up, you keep trying. He can’t tell if you really have a passion for the craft or you just want to be around him. But either way, he isn’t mad. You’re slowly getting better over time. Very very slowly.

🎍 One night when you two were sparring, Zoro decided to throw the duel in your favour. In a way that was convincing so you wouldn’t notice. Sure, Zoro hated losing, but it was worth it to see the smile on your face. After he does beg you to never tell anyone he “lost” to you, which you agree with.

Sanji

🍽️ Sanji was over the moon when you asked to cook with him. After all, the way to a person’s heart was through their stomach. It was always good to have a kitchen hand, and Sanji was so happy it was you. He doesn’t let many people interrupt him while he’s cooking, but he trusts you. For about two minutes.

🍽️ He gave you the simple task of boiling water. Just boiling water. But someone, you managed to destroy two pots, the spatula and managed to be the first person to burn water. Sanji was really surprised. He knew you said that you weren’t the best at cooking, but he wasn’t expecting you to be Luffy level bad.

🍽️ Over time, he just gives you simpler tasks. Like cutting vegetables or helping plate the food. Sanji loves you, he does, but he also values both your lives. So you’re banned from the stove and anything that involves mixing more than one ingredient. He doesn’t want the entire crew to get food poisoning.

🍽️ On the rare occasion you do cook, or he allows you to help him with the difficult stuff, he’ll eat the entire thing. He has a strict no wasting food policy, especially when it came to you. He has a strong stomach. No matter how bad or burnt or raw the dish is, he’ll eat it with a smile and tell you it’s delicious.