#the way they write sanji

[eddith]

LOL This is me with damianfinch on ao3, i love their smutty fics so much and zosan are always so on point, the characterization goes crazy in their fics.

[frozenfrogz]

Me when I read a fic but that one character is nothing like how they would normally act.

[poyitjdr]

Aight hear me out: Zoro gets cursed fuckin’ Ella Enchanted style and he accidentally discovers that written commands *also* count after Sanji’s “kiss the cook” apron triggers it. Sanji stuffs the apron into a random drawer in Chopper’s office (he can’t seem to bring himself to actually get rid of it and that fact irritates the shit out of Sanji). Anyways, Zoro visits Chopper to discuss the curse from a medical point of view and Chopper pulls out the stupid fuckin’ apron and shows it to Zoro cause wtf is that in his desk drawer??? and BAM second kiss triggered

anyways that’s the exact line of thinking that got me to draw this lmfao

[spock-smokes-weed]

It really does bother me when silly details revealed about characters are taken WAAAAY too seriously.

Like the Strawhats shower chart has personally victimized me for how it’s made everyone believe Sanji is the only “civilized” man on the ship who’s living with a bunch of “unwashed animals”

Literally who care if Luffy and Zoro only shower once a week, it was meant to be funny and now y’all are making it weird.

I don’t think I’ve seen Sanji insult Zoro’s hygiene once in canon, and if he has it’s NOT that often! but in basically every fanfic Zoro being “dirty” and “unbathed” is always the focus of Sanji’s insults and I’m so tired of it.

He doesn’t care bc if he did care Oda would actually put it in the text 😭😭😭 sanji isn’t a fancy pretty boy who freaks out over hygiene. He’s a chain smoking salty sea dog who was packed into a kitchen with like a dozen grizzled pirates. He can handle his friend’s BO I promise you. Bro it’s NOT that deep 😭

[eastbluecrewed]

huge fan of the barrel scene (witness me getting sappy beneath the cut)

i had a small but meaningful personal achievement coincide with reaching the barrel scene on my rewatch, and it got me thinking abt the impact one piece has had on me since i started it eight months ago. i love these guys a lot and they've done an absolute number on my psyche so of course i'm gonna tie them into the good things in my life!! sue me!!!!

when i first watched this scene i didn't realize the deep impact this story and these characters were going to have on me and how i view life, but damn they sure did!!! and so i thought it'd be fitting to do a simple little redraw as tribute to that and to myself.

hell yeah one piece time

[bluefiz]

He just doesn’t understand

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: NSFW/18+; gn!reader; oral sex (m receiving); edging/orgasm denial; Sanji is a whimpering, stuttering mess as he should be

“Oh please, my darling, my sweet,” Sanji whimpers, his hips languidly thrusting towards your mouth, “please won’t you let me cum already?”

You look up at him from your spot on the floor and shake your head, slowly dragging his flushed tip back and forth across your tongue as you do. He’d been tormenting you mercilessly all night, warm breath against your ear as he whispered sweet words to you while you prepped dinner, his hands roaming over your thighs under the table while you tried to keep your composure during mealtime, soft lips leaving trails of kisses down your neck once you were alone and helping wash the dishes. So it was only fair that once you had him where you wanted him—his tie undone and shirt unbuttoned, his slacks pooled around his ankles, his back pressed against the dining room wall—you’d simply have to give him a taste of his own bitter medicine.

“Please, please my love, it hurts, I need it,” he groans, his long blonde lashes fluttering shut, his hands uselessly groping the wall behind him, “need you.”

“Not yet,” you purr as you swirl your tongue over the head, tasting the sticky precum that leaks profusely as his muscular thighs tense. “You teased me all night long, Sanji…now it’s my turn.”

“Oh but m-my sweet,” he stammers as a long, low whine leaves his soft lips, “I didn’t mean anything by it. You just look so—so adorable when I play with you. Makes you even more irresistible, my darling.”

You kiss up and down the sides of his twitching shaft while one hand gently fondles his balls; you move down to run the pointed tip of your tongue up and down the seam before returning to lavishing his length with kisses and licks, never giving him the satisfaction of feeling the inside of your warm, wet mouth.

“If you need it that bad, then beg me.” You hold his aching cock in your palm, watching the precum drip onto your thighs in long, thin strands. “Beg like a good boy, Sanji, and maybe I’ll let you.”

“Please—my darling, my love,” he pants, desperation dripping from every syllable, his hips thrusting into your fist as he tries to pull his pleasure from you, “please put your sweet mouth on me. I want you to taste me, I want to give you all this cum, I need to give it to you. I’ll do anything, anything, I swear it. Just please, please—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off, grinning as you touch your lips to him. “I forgive you for earlier—I’ll give you what you want.”

“Oh thank you, thank you my love.” He bites his lip, his eyebrows knitted in exquisite torment, waiting for the release you’ve denied him over and over since you’d locked the door to the dining room and hastily unbuckled his trousers. You slowly slide him in your mouth, lips pressed tightly around him so you can feel every pulse, and move your head. He reaches a shaking hand down, grasping for yours that rests on his thigh, and he laces his fingers through yours, sighing as he tethers himself to you.

All your delicious torture has him right on the edge of ecstasy, and before long, his lean hips begin to shudder and the muscles of his legs tremble under your palms. Sanji suddenly gives a long, shivering exhale, and repeats your name between pretty moans and whimpers as he spills into your mouth and down your throat, his hand never leaving yours, grounding himself through every tremor and convulsion. You hold him still in the warmth of your mouth, slowly lapping him with your tongue, pulling every last spasm you can out of him, taking every last drop of him that you can, before slowly, torturously, pulling away, releasing the head of his cock with a wet pop.

He looks down at you through tear-dotted lashes, panting and smiling as he asks, “Am I your good boy, now, my love?”

“The best, Sanji.”

[sanzodaily]

day 58 | men will say shit like "all right, fine. ill kill you, just like you asked! whatever thats supposed to mean... in that case, don't die before then!" and then refuse to say i love you

[blasphemlm]

We Rotten Few chapter 25, Necrosis

There is a saccharine sweet scent in the air, putrid and disgusting. It hangs like mold, suffocating you and dulling your senses. When you open your mouth, you know intrinsically that what you are tasting is rot. You cannot escape this.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

:-

[justanothersanjilover]

Day 9: The way you look at me

Zoro’s look was always loving when it landed on Sanji…even after Sanji turned his back on his Nakama and betrayed Zoro by wanting to marry a girl he never met before…

Here is the prompt list with the other drawings 😊

[picciz-art]

Got into One Piece over the summer and this is their dynamic right

[leventart-den]

I won't write this but imagine ZoSan angst with a happy ending (or without, whatever your heart desires) where Sanji and Zoro are stuck on some island (possibly after a storm and battle) and Zoro is seriously injured, almost dying and Sanji takes care of him all this time.

Then Luffy and the others finally find them, Zoro is on the mend and everything seems to be fine. But then it turns out that Sanji was seriously ill all this time (perhaps he received some kind of strange poison in a battle with the enemy). And so he slowly dies but doesn't tell anyone about it because he doesn't want to be a burden and doesn't want Zoro to feel guilty in any way.

When his condition deteriorates, he decides that in the next big battle he will simply “miss the blow.” But Zoro somehow prevents this and so Sanji is wounded and after the battle asks to talk to Chopper alone. He explains the situation to him and asks not to tell Zoro the whole truth. Sanji has feelings for Zoro but knows that they are not mutual. All the straw hats are, of course, shocked and upset, although they hope that there is still time and they can find something to help Sanji.

Sanji's condition is worsening every day and, oddly enough, Zoro turns out to be the one who now spends most of the time with him. It's strange, but Sanji is happy. Meanwhile, the more Zoro is with Sanji, the more he gets to know him from a new side and develops feelings for the shitty cook. This becomes difficult and painful when Sanji's condition worsens so much that he can no longer cook and is on bed rest.

Sanji will cry when he can no longer see Zoro and Marimo will kiss him "good night" on chapped lips for the first time, thereby wordlessly saying "I love you too."

Zoro falls in love with him but Sanji is dying so there is no future for them.

Or is there?..

[yinyuedijun]

mfw I read a fic from a fandom I do not know completely without context and I end up lusting after the wrong man

[inoreuct]

undercover op with sanji in a dress?? i think judge would be pissed asf if he picked a backless one and decided to own that metal spine bcs he’s a badass 😏😏 (unless cyborgs are discriminated against. are they? are they common in this au?? or are sanji and his sibs the only ones?? I’M SO INVESTED PLS 🤲🏻)

ooooh anon anon anon,,, YOU READ MY MIND WITH THE BACKLESS DRESS also cyborgs are pretty uncommon but they aren’t really discriminated against— more seen as things to be put on pedestals and not people, though. some see them as feelingless machines, and sanji’s siblings definitely aren’t helping that rep :((

there are other cyborgs but the vinsmokes are the most well-known, and their power + skills and apathy (save sanji) have people kissing the ground they walk on with a mix of fear and reverence. sanji just wants to be a Normal Guy, though, and zoro treats him like one, and it both pisses sanji off and makes him immeasurably happy. make of that what you will 🤭

“Found him.” Zoro frowns at his monitor, double-clicking with his mouse to zoom in. “Grey jacket, next to the beer taps.” 

“Yeah, I see him.” 

He tracks Sanji over the security camera, watching the blond slink through a crowd that parts for him effortlessly without even seeming to realise. Zoro can’t blame them, seeing as he looks good enough to stop traffic. “Remember, he doesn’t know what’s—”

“Going on, I know, I know,” Sanji mutters under his breath, weaving around a woman who gawks with her mouth slightly open as he flashes her a soft smirk and a wink. “Keep him unaware and get the drive. I could do this in my sleep.”

“I know,” Zoro echoes, even as he holds back a scoff and an eye roll. He’s in a bad mood and he knows exactly why. 

He’s scrunched up in his chair in sweatpants and a ratty tank top, a half-drunk can of beer steadily forming a puddle on the desk next to his keyboard as he watches Sanji sidle up to the bar and order a drink. Their target sneaks a look to the side before ducking his head and taking a gulp from his own glass. 

The man’s a small-time photographer who looks clean-cut but understated— Insignificant. He’d been chosen precisely because of that fact; GERMA66 had deemed him acceptable as an oblivious carrier of a thumbdrive that supposedly contains plans for whatever the hell Judge is up to next. 

Their job is to intercept it before it gets to Charlotte Linlin, or anybody she’s affiliated with. 

The bartender returns with Sanji’s drink and he takes it with an elegant incline of his head. “Old fashioned?” he asks, gesturing to their target’s glass, and there’s a pause before the poor man looks around quickly. 

“A-Are you—?” he starts, pointing to himself. 

Sanji laughs, silky and soft. Zoro takes a controlled breath. “Who else?” He raises his own glass to his lips, and Zoro knows what’s in it. A rum and orange cocktail with Kahlúa and cacao nibs in the egg white foam on top. “That is an old fashioned, isn’t it? Yeah.” The blond’s lips curl up behind the crystal rim, a bold red and sharp at the edges. “You seem the type.”

“You seem the type,” Zoro mocks silently, scowling at the screen. He doesn’t even try not to scoff this time; his chair complains with a loud creak when he throws his weight back, sullenly crossing his arms over his chest. 

Look. He’s not sulking, alright? It’s just— difficult. Sanji twists sideways, leaning one elbow on the bar, and the back of his dress dips low enough for his entire spine to glimmer silver-wet in the dim lights. Where was he?

Right, difficult. Sanji’s over there buttering up a literal nobody, and Zoro has to sit here, in his apartment, in this shitty rolling chair with no back support where he’s close enough to go in if Sanji needs backup. He listens to his partner flirt over the comms and grits his teeth as he tries to consciously keep his fists unclenched. 

He’s not jealous. It’s just that he’d gotten used to the idea of there not being anyone else, he supposes. Neither of them have any time for romance outside of their jobs, and at some point being together had just become routine; and Sanji’s a flirt, sure, but at the end of the day it’s always Zoro that he ends up with. They have toothbrushes at each other’s places. Sanji has weights by his shoe rack and Zoro has a block of chef’s knives tucked into the corner of his kitchen counter.

Sanji’s laughter grabs his attention, and Zoro realises that at some point he’d lost the thread of the conversation. The blond pinches the collar of their target’s grey windbreaker between his thumb and forefinger, running down the length of it, and their eyes meet through the camera as Sanji pushes off the countertop and the man scrambles to follow. 

His dress drags along the floor. The red satin is made heavy by crystalline beading, draping down to just above his hips as he makes his way to the lift lobby, and the man trails behind hanging onto his every word like a starstruck fool; Zoro suspects he himself isn’t much better. The lights of the lift lobby are harsh as they make their way up to the hotel above the bar, and Zoro switches from camera to camera all the way until the man’s sliding a key card into a lock and disappearing when Sanji shoves him into the room with an exaggerated giggle. 

His expression sobers when looks directly at the camera across the hall. Strands of hair are drifting out of his chignon and catching in his lashes. “Sorry, mossy. Gonna have to sign off for now,” he whispers, and Zoro can hear the soft smile in his voice before he pulls his earpiece out and shuts the door.

Silence. 

…Yeah, Zoro’s jealous.

It’s enough to have him finishing his beer in two chugs, leaning back to drag his hands over his face and groan. He knows what it looks like. Knows what it’s supposed to look like; a hookup, plain and simple. Judge can’t know that Sanji’s the reason the drive won’t make it to Linlin. It’s risky, sure, but they’re banking on the fact that he doesn’t know that Zoro knows anything about how Judge still has Sanji under his thumb. And if Sanji gets some fun out of it, well— Zoro can’t fault him. 

It doesn’t change the fact that he feels sick to his stomach, and it’s pissing him off because he has no right. None at all. He isn’t entitled to anything; Sanji doesn’t owe him, or anyone, anything. It doesn’t matter how he feels. It doesn’t matter how close they sit when they’re falling asleep in the middle of a movie on Sanji’s couch. Sanji’s already been backed into a corner by his bastard of a father— Zoro refuses to complicate things for him any more. 

He’ll get up in a moment. Grab a bottle of something stronger this time. The apartment will be his till morning, anyway, so what’s the rush?

And then he hears the front door beep as somebody enters the passcode, and he nearly falls out of his seat sitting up straight. 

Zoro glances at the clock as footsteps echo through the entrance; it’s only been twenty minutes, give or take. 

Multiple hard somethings clatter onto his desk, and he looks up to find Sanji leaning against the doorway. “Help me out. I’ve got a screw loose,” he says, grinning, and then there’s a moment before Zoro groans.

“If you think that’s funny then you clearly do,” he replies tiredly, standing as Sanji sits on the other side of the table.

He picks up the screwdriver he’d been given, reeling a little. Sanji isn’t supposed to be here, and yet— Here he is, pulling pins from his hair left and right and dropping them all over Zoro’s desk as his chignon untwists itself. A weary sigh leaves Zoro’s lungs. “Where?” 

“L4, R6, L12 and 16, and… R23.”

“23?” He frowns. “That’s lower than usual.” 

Sanji grimaces. “Slept wrong last night, I think.” 

“Hm.” Zoro flips the tool in his hand as Sanji gathers his hair over his shoulder; it’s gotten long now, enough to dust the tops of his shoulder blades with soft, shimmering gold. He rests his thumb at Sanji’s hairline and drags down gently until he gets to the first corresponding vertebra and he’s careful as he fits the screwdriver head in, turning slowly until the joint tightens.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Sanji makes a pfft sound and doesn't even turn, used to Zoro’s straightforward questions. “‘Course not. What, not confident enough in my abilities?” 

“No.” Zoro clamps his mouth shut when he realises how defensive he sounds. “No,” he amends, voice marginally less tense, four fingers wrapped over the edge of Sanji’s ribs as he moves down. “I just thought… You were having a good enough time. He liked you. No reason not to.” 

“I didn’t want to. That’s the reason,” Sanji says, and it’s flat enough that Zoro knows to ease off. “When we got into his room I knocked him out before I nicked this,” he taps the thumbdrive he’d tossed onto the table with the screwdriver, “out of the lining of one of his jackets.”

Zoro narrows his brows. “Knocked him out how?”

Sanji shrugs a shoulder. “Compressed his carotid. Pretty sure the poor guy was enjoying it, honestly.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Zoro holds Sanji’s side, elbows digging into the table as he crouches down to see what he’s doing. He resists the urge to press his nose to Sanji’s skin. Beading digs into his knuckles as the screw clicks into place.

“Zoro.”

He stills. They rarely use each other’s names. “Yeah?”

“Did you—” Sanji’s breath catches, the moment suspended until he shakes his head. “Nevermind.” 

He’s beautiful, Zoro thinks. The scarring that frames his spine is smooth under his thumb. “Did it hurt?”

“Hm?”

“When he…”

“…Yeah.” Sanji puts the heels of his palms on the table, fingers curling over the edge, thumbs pressing into the sides of his thighs. “He said it was my fault, anyway,” he sighs, letting his weight drop so his shoulders hunch up to his ears. “That I wasn’t even supposed to feel pain, but I ruined it before he could… perfect me.” 

Zoro lets his eyes flick up, gaze falling on the elegant curve of Sanji’s nape before he focuses on the last screw. 

He’d made a promise to himself on that fire escape. The metal melded to Sanji’s back is a constant reminder to both of them that he’s a double agent. Everything they do is a risk; hell, they both lose sleep over it. Zoro’s used to his phone ringing in the middle of the night. Sanji’s finally starting to allow himself to call. 

The blond’s head is hung low as the strap of his dress slips off his shoulder, and Zoro slides it back up and lays it in place. He’s done with Sanji’s spine. “How’s that feel?”

“Hm?” Sanji blinks as he looks up, before rolling his shoulders back. “Better.”

“Alright.” Zoro barely stops himself from drumming his fingers on the table as he bites his lip. He turns around under the guise of readjusting random things on his windowsill. “It’s late. You staying over?”

“…Oh, fine,” Sanji relents, waving a hand. “Too tired to go anywhere, anyway.” 

It’s second nature to leave a set of pyjamas on the bed; Zoro usually takes the couch, if only because the springs are hell for the tactile sensors in Sanji’s spine. He’s just leaving when Sanji steps out of the adjoining bathroom with a wash of warm air with a towel around his waist. 

“Pretty sure your bed’s meant for two,” he says lightly before grabbing the clothes and disappearing back through the door, and Zoro blinks. Sure, he’d splurged on a queen-sized mattress, but he’s never shared it. 

He ends up lying down anyway and swiping through his phone mindlessly until Sanji comes out again, hair brushed back. The covers pull as Sanji climbs under and he stretches to turn the lights off, before they’re laying there in silence. 

Zoro’s half asleep when he hears it. 

“We didn’t do anything in that room.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you did.” 

“But we didn’t,” Sanji insists, and Zoro hears I didn’t want to do it, any of it, and he doesn’t even realise he’s reached for Sanji’s hand until their fingers brush. 

“I know,” he says, gentle. Their hands lay in the space between them until Sanji threads their fingers together, rolling onto his side. 

“Just, uh,” he begins, clearing his throat gruffly. “Just wanted to clarify.”

Zoro laughs against his will. His shoulders shake with it, and he hisses when Sanji kicks his shin. He finds the knuckle of Sanji’s thumb as he brings their hands up between their pillows, rubbing over the bone. “Go to sleep, curly. We’ll go through the drive tomorrow.” 

Sanji’s lashes flutter before he swallows. “Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, marimo.”

He turns his face into his pillow. He smells like Zoro’s body wash.

Zoro stares at his ceiling and wonders just how much he’d be willing to give to protect this man falling asleep next to him.

(He wakes not long after sunrise the next day. 

Sanji’s ribs rise and fall against his palm, the corner of his borrowed shirt riding up. He’d rolled over Zoro’s arm sometime in the night; his other hand is tucked close to his chest, his ankle skin-warm and pressed to Zoro’s shin. His hair is all over the place and Zoro’s pretty sure he’s drooling. 

He smells even more familiar now, like cheap lavender detergent that Zoro buys on a discount, leftover hair wax and orange from the night before. Just a hint of mint toothpaste. There’s the slight rasp of stubble when Zoro drags the heel of his hand across Sanji’s jaw, and the man mutters in his sleep, flipping over to face the other way and hug Zoro’s arm to his chest.

Well. Zoro doesn’t usually sleep in. He’s a busy man, he’s got weights to rep and evidence to process— But seeing as his arm’s trapped, there’s not much he can do, is there?)

(The next time he opens his eyes it’s past noon. He smells caffeine and hot butter, and it drags him out of bed to the kitchen; Sanji’s standing over the stove, hair shoved up into a haphazard bun with a blue ballpoint pen, spatula in one hand and Zoro’s laptop balanced on the other.

“About damn time, you log,” he huffs, jerking his head towards the table. “Coffee’s ready, help yourself. You won’t believe what bullshit Judge is trying to pull.”

Zoro raises both eyebrows and decides to save himself an ass-kicking by keeping his mouth shut. He pours himself a mug of coffee and sits down. “S’that my pen?”

“It’s—” Sanji frowns. “I picked it up off the floor.”

“Hm. I was wondering where it ran off to.”

Sanji rolls his eyes, leaning over to put the eggs down. “You’re fucking horrible. Are you telling me you only have one pen?”

“No. I was just looking for this,” Zoro reaches up and yanks it from his hair, “pen.” He yelps a laugh when Sanji swats him over the head and drags a chair out. “It looks better down, anyway,” he chuckles, wrapping a curl around his finger and tugging before he lets go. “Now run me through what’s going on.”

The blond gives him a stink eye and sighs, turning the laptop so it faces them both. “Okay. So…”)

(Zoro settles in, drinks his coffee, and he still hasn’t figured out how much he’d give. He’s starting to think there isn’t a limit.

He thinks he’d be okay with that, though.)

(part 1 | part 2)

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.