Chapter Text
“Marry me.”
You placed a hand on Sanji’s cheek, stroking the blushing skin with your thumb. He looked so sweet - eyes tired, face still tinged red with lust and love.
“I want to” you whispered back. “We will, Ji.”
He smiled. You could die happy if the last thing you saw was that beautiful smile.
“No, I mean marry me. I’m asking. I’m proposing, I guess.”
Marry him. He’s asking.
Of all the things that could have come out of your mouth, you laughed. You didn’t want to laugh at your boyfriend’s vulnerability, his gentile and his romance, but there was no way you were receiving the thing you wanted most in the world on a random Tuesday night in bed.
You weren’t worthy of being his wife yet. You still had so much you had to give him, so many wounds to heal and things to prove.
He couldn’t possibly want to marry imperfect, frustrating you.
You didn’t have any words for him. You just stared, jaw slack, nothing flowing into your brain.
“My love?”
You shook your head a bit. “You want to get married?” You stammered. “To me? Now?”
“More than I want to breathe air.”
You had always imagined Sanji’s proposal being more grand than any royal kingdom in the Grand Line. Of course he had always bragged on and on about how he was going to go above and beyond to ensure you said yes. The thought of it had always made you a bit nervous. You weren’t exactly into pomp and circumstance the way Sanji was in public. You were always preferential to this Sanji, soft and squishy Sanji with no walls up between the two of you. Of course you would have said yes no matter how Sanji asked for your hand, but being asked in your bed, not even clothes between you, was a welcome surprise.
In that moment, thoughts crashed down on your mind like a tidal wave. You saw yourself dressed in white, Sanji in a handsome suit as two of you joined hands and laughed your way through wedding vows. You saw a honeymoon on a crystal clear beach with good drinks and lovemaking. You saw the two of you growing old together, getting a home, having children.
For the first time, you saw a future that went deeper and further than just a few months. You saw forever, a forever you weren’t afraid of.
“Yes” you breathed before you had even realized what you were saying. “Yes. Yes, let’s get married.”
His lips tore into the largest smile you’d ever seen on his face. He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips hard to yours and pulling you against him by your hips. Nothing was held back. Years of pining and waiting, sacrificing and learning to love one another seemed to burst out from just a single kiss. He lavished you with his lips, his tongue, his teeth, both hands roaming your naked back. It felt like he believed he’d never be able to kiss you again.
“My fiancée” he whispered, pulling back just enough to form the words on his lip. “You’ll be my wife.”
You giggled despite still being breathless from the kiss. “You’ll be my husband.”
That set him off on a burst of joy he didn’t appear able to contain. His lips were back on yours in an instant. He rolled you onto his chest, naked bodies pressed together in the already hot, humid room. His lips tasted like sweat and cigarettes, and you were addicted.
You always had been.
Sanji reached down, grabbing your thighs and pulling them apart across his hips so you were straddling him.
“Ji” you laughed, rubbing the tip of your nose on his. “We just had sex. You are impossible.”
He smiled that million berry smile he used to capture your heart in the first place. “You’re my fiancée now” he breathed. “Gotta practice how I’ll make love to you on our wedding night. It has to be perfect.”
You felt your skin heat up at his words. How was he still able to fluster you after all this time?
“It’s always perfect with you, Sanji.”
He placed a quick, small kiss on your already swollen lips. “Do you remember the first time? After Drum Island when my back cramped and you had to spend the night waking me up so my back wouldn’t lock up?”
You laughed out loud at the memory. Your first time being intimate together had been so perfect, sweet and cautious in Alabasta. In the midst of the emotional cries and loving touches, Sanji had cried out in pain, his back injury from Drum Island sending him into agony. Instead of spending the afterglow of sex cuddling and talking in bed, you had to massage his aching muscles and soothe him to sleep.
It was odd and hilarious and awkward. It was perfectly you two.
You tapped his nose. “If I have to massage knots out of your back on our wedding night, it will be the best night of my life.”
Sanji flinches away from you when you dab the antiseptic down on his swollen side.
You’ve hurt him.
Again.
It breaks you, but you can’t break. Sanji would surely be cut on the pieces trying to put you back together.
“I’m sorry” you breathe, trying to hold your voice steady as the tears that have welled in your eyes threaten to pour. “You’re doing so good, Sanji. Breathe for me.”
He inhales -albeit shakily- as you press the cloth back down on the wound. No matter how gentle you are, not matter how desperately you try not to bring him anymore pain, it doesn’t matter. He simply can’t handle more.
He cries out, face twisting in pain as his body slumps forward and tears drip into his hands.
“Ji?” You begin, bringing an arm around the chair he’s in to help hold him up. “Sanji? Are you passing out?”
He nods weakly. “My ears are ringing. I can’t see.”
You’re able to push him back into the chair enough to steady him before rising to your feet.
“I’m going to get Chopper. I’m gonna get you in bed first” you tell him, reaching for him.
He shakes his head. “No Chopper, I’m okay. I’m fine now. It was just the pain.”
You hesitate. Any other day you’d let Sanji hold onto his pride, but the urge to run for more help is too strong within you. He has to hurt to get better, but you just can’t fucking stand to hurt him anymore. You can’t take it, but you have to.
You tear up the lump in your throat with your teeth and swallow it down.
“Are you positive?”
He nods. “Keep going.”
You sigh, kneeling back down beside him to continue dressing a gruesome burn on his rib cage. It sickens you physically to look at the damn thing. It stirs something primal in you, something that wants to find everyone that’s ever laid a threatening finger on your Sanji and tear them open.
“You said they burned you with a cattle prod?” You question. “I’m worried about this, Sanji.”
“It was something like that, electric pole. Pierced my skin and shocked me.”
The wound is absolutely hideous, pus covered and dripping a strange orange fluid. It’s been like this since the lot of you returned to the Sunny the day before. Sanji hasn’t told Chopper about it. The doctor is busy caring for other Strawhats that were injured by Big Mom’s crew, and Sanji keeps insisting to you that he’s already been too big a burden on them in the last few weeks.
It makes you ache, hearing the love of your life call himself a burden.
You try to be gentler this time. You go back in at the wound, Sanji hissing when you do. The antiseptic makes the wound bubble a bit. It drips, blood and pus running down Sanji’s side.
You’re quick to wipe it away, only to disturb more bruising on his fragile body. Sanji moans, burying his face in his hands.
“You okay?” You wonder. “You’re almost done.”
“Thank you, my love.”
You grab the bandages from beside you, unraveling a large piece. “I’m just glad you’re home and you’re okay.”
He turns his head to look at you as you spread the bandage over the wound. He looks more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. Neither of you got any sleep last night, Sanji in too much pain while you fretted over his condition. Though he’d never mention it to the crew, he’s been terribly frightened. Small creaks of the Sunny make him stir. Approaching footsteps make him wrap an arm around you and act as though someone is coming to steal you away.
“You don’t sound like yourself. What’s the matter, my darling?” He asks you, retrieving you from your thoughts.
You don’t answer right away. The entirety of your week has been chewing on your mind since it began, and you still haven’t been able to unravel the entire mess. The image of your husband at the altar with another woman is burned into you brain. No matter how much you try to cover it with memories of the two of you together, you cannot. It’s like a parasite, consuming more and more of your mind the longer you allow it to linger.
“I missed you” you tell him simply. “I hated not knowing if you were dead or hurt. It was killing me.”
You secure the bandage over his burn and stand up beside him. He frowns.
“I’m here” he promises you. “I’m home. I’m okay, my love.”
You offer your hands to help him stand. He accepts, taking your hands and pulling himself to unsteady feet.
“Thank you” he tells you again, his voice much softer now. “My love, I’m so, so, so sorry.”
You’re taken aback by your husband’s sudden shift in mood. His eyes are welling up once again, hands shaking in yours.
You give him a weak smile. “Sanji, you have nothing to apologize for. You were protecting us and your dad. I understand.”
Despite himself, he gives a little smile when you refer to Zeff as his father. It isn’t a new thing for you. You’ve always felt that way about their relationship, but you’re glad that Sanji seems to finally be comfortable with the idea that Zeff is truly his father. The man surely deserves the title after years of putting up with the antics you and Sanji were able to pull in your youth. You never imagined that he’d be your father in law when you were just a little thing running around Baratie, but the joy of it has been one small bright spot in the last few days.
You scrambled behind your dad’s leg, clinging to the pants of his Marine uniform as you stared up at the man towering before you. No matter how many times you had met Chef Zeff, the former pirate never failed to make you a bit nervous. You were still trying to work out in your mind how you father -a powerful Marine- could be such close friends with a former pirate.
“Zeff” your father greeted politely, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “How’s business? How’s your boy?”
The man rolled his eyes. He never quite seemed as polite or cheery as your father. “Business is good. Sanji bit me yesterday.”
Your father’s gruff laughter sent a warm wave through your little chest.
“Bit you?” You father questioned his friend. “Now why on earth would an eight-year-old bite you?”
Zeff shrugged. “Kid’s scared of the dark. Patty put a pot on his head last night to tease ‘em and he was cryin’ and screamin’ so hard that he kicked me and bit me when I tried to pick ‘em up.”
Sanji. Though you had never really met the little boy before, it was always a guarantee that you could catch him staring at you through a crack in the kitchen door. He’d peak his blond head out every few minutes while your family dined, and then dash away when you caught him. It always made your little heart sail, but he had never come out to say hello in the three months your family had been frequenting the Baratie.
Your dad leaned to peak around his friend, so you did the same. Sure enough, there he was. Sanji stood with half of his face peering out from the double doors to the kitchen. When you spotted him, he nearly pealed from his skin as he turned tail and ran back into the kitchen.
You dad frowned to Zeff. “Skittish little thing, isn’t he?”
“Eh” Zeff began. “Wasn’t until a few months ago. Started havin’ nightmares and sleepwalking and all kinds of weird garbage. Odd kid.”
Nightmares. You knew a thing or two about those.
“Go get the kid” your dad suggested. “This one here’s not exactly a social butterfly either.”
He placed a hand atop your little head, ruffling your hair much to your discontent.
Zeff looked unsure, but nodded despite himself. “He won’t come easy, little brat.”
With that, Zeff turned and headed toward the kitchen, leaving you standing in the now quiet restaurant with your dad. He looked down at you, nudging you slightly so you were standing in front of him.
“Okay” he began, his eyes gentle and calm. “Sanji’s a little bit…different. Be nice.”
You tilted your head. “I’m always nice, papa.”
“I know” he assured you. “But Sanji can sometimes be not so nice, but it’s not his fault. You know how when you’re really, really scared at a scary story, and you scream without even thinking about doing it?”
You nodded.
“Well, sometimes when bad things happen to people, regular things can feel like hearing a really scary story. They might say things or be mean without realizing they’re doing it.”
You didn’t quite understand. Bad thing? What bad thing possibly could have happened to such a little boy?
“Oi, Admiral” Zeff called from behind you, pulling you from the conversation with your father. “We got introductions to make.”
You turned, finding Zeff no longer alone. You’d never seen all of Sanji before, just his face. He was a skinny little thing, tall for his age with unkempt blond curls and a scowl on his face that looked permanent. It unsettled you a bit, but you didn’t want to show it. Boys back at home were apt to pick on you, and you weren’t about to let alone get the joy of doing so.
“Sanji” your dad greeted in the same voice he’d use with any other man. “How are you, buddy?”
Sanji shrugged. That was the only response your father received.
Zeff nudged the little boy in the back a bit, pointing at you now.
“Oi, brat. There’s a lady. Say hello.”
Sanji finally laid his eyes on you, blue and deep like the sea you’d sailed in on. He smiled at last. It was itty bitty, barely there and all deep dimples and cracked lips, but it was enough. Your heart damn near soared from your tiny little ribs.
You were done for.
You reach up to push some of the hair from Sanji’s eyes. That same sea-blue gaze lands on you, and even though his dimples and freckles are lost to you now, you can picture the boyish face he once had in your mind.
“I miss my dad” he says finally, breaking the silence that’s fallen over the two of you. “He’s probably burned down Baratie by now.”
For the first time in two weeks, you laugh. Some things just never change. No matter how much Sanji loves Zeff, he’ll never miss the opportunity to insult the man.
“We haven’t seen him since our wedding” you remind your husband. “We should try to plan a trip home soon, or maybe get my dad to get Zeff to the Grand Line.”
Sanji finally finds it in himself to lower his body down your bed, sitting with a stiff back on the messy sheets.
“He would never” he scoffs. “He’d make some half ass excuse that it’s our job to come visit an old man.”
You take a seat next to him and place a gentle hand on his bare back. “We’ll make it work. We always do.”
He appears to soothe back into your touch. His eyes flutter closed, a deep breath causing his bruised and battered chest to rise and fall. You don’t try to push him any further. Instead, you content yourself with lightly scratching his back.
After a few minutes of this soft silence, he turns his tired eyes to you. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I love you” you tell him for probably the millionth time today. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do you? How’s your back?”
You let your hand trail down to the long, straight scar in the curve of his low back. He hums when you run your fingers over it, a pleasant sound that reverberates in his his chest.
“Sore” he admits. “It’s been sore for weeks.”
You press two fingers into the muscles of his low back, pulling a low moan from his throat.
“Fuck” he mutters. “Fuck that hurts.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
He shakes his head. “Feels good, I think.”
He whines when you pull your hand away and lay it over his.
“Come on, lay down. I’m gonna rub your back” you direct. “Tell me if it gets to be too much.”
He does as he’s told, slowly climbing into bed and collapsing onto his front.
His back has always been scarred, sore and rough. You’ve always been obsessed with ridding him of his shirt and massaging his muscles until he’s snoring away into the pillows. There’s a vulnerability to it, a sense of trust. He has enough faith in your love for him to turn his back on you, loosen his muscles, and let you touch the hurting skin.
You begin the massage the way you do every night. You start at his tight, aching shoulders. They’re a bit freckled, pale and soft when your thumbs begin to work into the muscle. He sighs into the sheets and immediately begins to loosen up beneath you.
“Feel good?”
“So fucking good.”
You continue here for a few minutes before moving downward, careful not to upset the massive burn scar tissue between his shoulder blades. He always twitches and hisses a bit if you touch the marred skin too much. Of all the scars on his body, the ones left by Enel are the most sensitive. They never seem to fully heal. Today, the edges of the burn are raised and red as if it’s becoming irritated all these years later. You abandon the rough digging of your thumbs in favor of running your palms over the mark.
“I assume you weren’t taking care of this while you were gone?” You hypothesize, running a finger along the burn.
He shakes his head. “Couldn’t reach it.”
“Tomorrow we’re taking a long bath and giving you a spa day” you tell him, leaning in to place the ghost of a kiss over the scar before moving your fingers further down his back.
He snorts out a small laugh. “Spa day?”
“You know” you begin. “My nice soaps, some lotion, a bath.”
He rolls his head over on the pillow so you can see his eye. “You mean getting naked, wet, and rubbing each other with lotion?”
“I hate you.”
“Then why do you want me naked, wet, and slippery?”
If he hadn’t had such a horrible time lately, you’d pinch him. He’s laughing beneath you at his own foul, odd words, and all you can do is blush as you laugh along with him.
“Glad to see this mess hasn’t made you less of a perv” you tease him.
He winks at you. “The most beautiful lady to ever grace the surface of the planet is on my back in her panties right now talking about sexy massages, and I’m the perv?”
“I never said the massage would be sexy.”
“You could take those panties off and we could make it sexy.”
Gods, he’s horrible, and Gods you missed him.
The fun is cut short when your thumb strikes a bad chord in his lower back. He cries out loudly into his pillow, all the muscles in body locking into knots.
“Sanji!” You gasp, scrambling off his back. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, Ji. Are you okay?”
He breathes heavily, exhaling loudly into the fabric. His hands are gripping the pillowcase so hard that his knuckles have gone white.
“Sanji?”
He nods, but doesn’t speak.
You can see the muscles in his back spasming a bit, the skin blushed and irritated with inflammation.
“I’m going to get painkillers from Chopper” you inform him, finally putting your foot down. “You need them, Sanji.”
He doesn’t argue with you. He just whines into the pillow as he seems to give in.
You hate to leave him even for a moment, but you want him out of pain as soon as possible.
The Thousand Sunny is quiet when you step out into the hall. It doesn’t shock you. No one was in particularly good spirits when you left Tatto, and no one wanted to get in the way of Sanji’s recovery. Everyone seemed like they just wanted to tend to their wounds and lie down in their beds.
You make your way to the infirmary, only the sound of the ocean and your own footsteps to guide you. You’d find it peaceful if such a fresh hell hadn’t just bombarded your crew.
You give a soft knock when you reach the infirmary door. A bit of warmth flows through you when you hear the familiar sound of tiny little hooves clicking across the floor.
You smile down at the little doctor when he opens the door. “Hey Chop.”
He returns your joy. “Hi! What are you still doing awake?”
“Oh jeez” you begin, bringing your fingers up to massage the bridge of your nose. “Sanji’s hurting. Do you have a painkiller I can give him?”
Chopper frowns. “Does he need me? I’m not busy!”
You shake your head, reaching down to ruffle the doctor’s fur, his hat no where in sight. “I think he just needs some medicine and some rest. He’s grumpy.”
Chopper’s face is covered in apprehension, but he doesn’t argue. “Come on in, I have stuff.”
You follow the little reindeer into the room, placing yourself down on the bed as he begins to root through his drawers.
“What kind of pain is he having?” He wonders, antlers knocking into things on his desk as he searches.
“His back” you reply. “From where Doctorine fixed it. He has a burn, too. It’s bad.”
Chopper turns his head. “A burn? He didn’t show me a burn.”
“I think he would’ve hid everything from you if he’d been able to” you admit, a bit of guilt suddenly crawling up in your gut. “Something’s up with him. He’s going back and forth between being totally himself and being…odd.”
“Odd?”
“Yeah, like spaced out, I guess? I’m worried.”
Chopper produces a little vial from his drawer, handing it over to you. “I’m no therapist, but it must have terrible to have to see all those awful people.”
The green liquid in the vial unsettles you a bit, but you’re in no place to question your doctor.
“Yeah” you mumble. “It’s so hard to get him to talk to me about stuff. He has this weird ‘men shouldn’t burden their women’ kind of thing.”
Chopper narrows his eyes, seeming to consider your words.
“Hm” he ponders. “His dad said some pretty mean stuff about him, even just when we were leaving. Do you think they were mean to him about the kind of husband he is to you?”
This little doctor, always so adorably wise.
“I didn’t even think of that” you breathe. “You think?”
Chopper crawls up on the bed beside you, swinging his little legs off the ledge as he snuggles up to your side. “If they wanted him to marry the other lady, I don’t think they’d be very nice about you.”
The thought of it makes your blood boil under your skin. You’ve spent the last decade trying to make Sanji feel like he’s worthy, like he can express himself and share his emotions. Even when you were just two young friends, Sanji could barely accept praise or appreciation. He viewed himself as a burden, and sometimes, it’s clear that he still does. The fact that Judge and those little monsters he made have stripped Sanji of all the progress he’s made is infuriating.
You wrap your arm around Chopper then, giving the reindeer a tiny squeeze before rising to your feet.
“Thank you, Chop” you tell him gently, smiling. “You could be a therapist, you know. You give great advice.”
His little hooves come together in a clap, his face pulling into a wide grin. “Stop! I’m just being silly! It’s not like I know anything about everything, ya know!”
You would do just about anything for Chopper.
“Love you, Chop” you say through a little laugh. “Night.”
He waves goodbye, watching you go. You shuffle back to your room as quietly as you can, hoping not to have to explain Sanji’s state to any of the other Strawhats. You know that there’s going to be the eventual fallout from Sanji’s embarrassment over the crew seeing him breakdown. When he’s truly forced to face them again in a healthier state, you know it will be difficult for him.
You open your bedroom door slowly, hoping that Sanji has fallen asleep, but to no avail. Instead of resting as you told him to do, he’s back on his aching feet. He slowly makes his way around the room, grabbing up the bloody tissues and antiseptic bottle from the floor.
“Sanji!” You snap, rushing to his side to pull the items from his hands. “You shouldn’t be bending and stretching. You need to lay down.”
Despite the fact that he’s sweating, he waves you off. “I’m fine. The least I can do is help my beautiful lady clean up.”
Fuck, it’s so hard to stand your ground and not allow that sugary sweet voice to lure you into his desires. You’re so used to him running about and doing things for you, tidying up and fixing you meals before you even realize you need to do it.
“Ji” you repeat. “Please. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Lie down.”
His nose twitches a bit.
Classic Sanji. He’s getting frustrated.
He takes a deep breath and leaves that smile plastered on his face. “Love, I’m not helpless. I can pick up a few tissues and bottles.”
It’s your turn to take some breaths, closing your eyes for a moment to try and steady yourself. You’re exhausted. You’ve been pushed to and far past your limits, but it isn’t Sanji’s fault. To him, he’s just trying to be a good husband.
“Ji” You begin again, slowly as if not to startle him. “The way you’re stretching is going to hurt that burn. If it reopens it might get infected. Please sit down for me.”
You can see his fist gripping the tissues in his hand, but he doesn’t show the building agitation on his face. He just speeds up his cleaning, hands quickly gathering things from the floor as he begins to shake. He looks almost like a child cleaning up his mess. It’s as if he thinks you’ll wake in the morning, see the disaster, and blame him for the mess.
It burns you.
“Sanji.”
You reach for him, but the instant your hand makes contact with his wrist, he pulls his arm away from you.
“I said I’m not helpless!”
The bottle of antiseptic in his hand is released upon his declaration, flying opposite the two of you across the room and shattering against the front of your dresser.
Time stops. It’s as though neither of you is breathing, the room silent but for the waves slamming into the side of the Sunny. Antiseptic drips down to the floor. The drops of the liquid is hypnotic against your ears, pulling you into a swirling of panic that’s rising up in your chest like a fire.
Never, not once in your life has Sanji been anything even close to violent at you. He’s refrains from even allowing you to see him when he fights or yells. He protects you from his rage.
He protects you from himself.
You don’t speak as he looks away, walking over to where the bottle has shattered and bending down to begin picking up the shards of glass. He grunts when he makes it to the floor and reaches for his side for just a moment, but lets it pass as he cleans.
You’re shaking. The ship suddenly feels cold, like all the good air has been sucked from it, leaving only an unbreathable weight.
He didn’t mean to throw it. You know that much, but to see Sanji lose his cool with only you in the room is enough to send your heart breaking free from your ribs. It feels as though it’s already laid out before you on the floor, blood seeping in between the boards of your bedroom, poisoning the life you’ve made together before you can stop it.
In the midst of your own trembling, you hear Sanji’s voice from across the room.
“I’m sorry” he mumbles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
His breathing is ragged now, heavy and quick as he cleans. Glass pieces slip form his fingers, hitting the floor again and breaking into even smaller shards.
Crack.
Sanji curses under his breath, hands shaking as he roots through the fluid and glass.
Crack.
He goes down to one knee as his body is no longer able to hold him up.
Crack.
He’s stopped cleaning. His hands fly to the front of the dresser to support his weight as his other knee gives, and a sob chokes up from somewhere deep in his chest.
He screams. He sits on his knees over the mess of broken glass beside your marital bed and screams.
It’s visceral. It’s agonizing. It’s a sound you wish you could go back and never hear tear up from your husband’s throat.
You’re at his side in an instant. You collapse to your knees, wrapping your arms around him and allowing him to fall back into your chest.
“I’m sorry” he weeps, hands clinging to your arm as if it’s the only thing holding him to the earth. “I’m sorry.”
All you can think to do is hush him as you sit back on the floor. You pull the two of you away from the pile of broken glass, leaning against the bed so you can pull him against you.
He’s broken. You’re now the one holding shattered glass in your hands.
You can barely understand him when he begins to babble into your chest.
“I almost hurt you” he frets. “I almost hurt you, and I hurt Luffy, and I hurt Nami, and I hurt Chopper. I hurt that poor fucking Charlotte girl and I hurt my sister and I made my mother sick.”
He’s incoherent at the end. His hands pull at your shirt like he’s trying to sink into you, and you can only hold him. You can only rub his back and hush him until he calms from this indescribable pain.
“My Sanji” you whisper, hands moving to stroke through his hair. “I scared you. You didn’t mean it. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He doesn’t lift his face from the crook of your neck as he speaks.
“Does it matter if I meant it?” He wonders. “Everything I do hurts someone whether I mean to or not.”
“That’s not true” you assure him even though you know the words barely penetrate his panic. “Sanji, look at me.”
He shakes his head against your neck.
You bring a slow, gentle hand up to cradle his cheek, coaxing his tear-soaked face from your skin so you can meet his eyes.
“Breathe” you direct him, hands holding him steady. “Breathe for me. In” -you take a long, slow inhale- “Out, okay?”
He follows, and though his breath is shaky, he’s able to catch it. You smile.
“Good boy. Breathe slow. Count if you have to.”
He does as he’s told. Over and over again, the two of you breathe together until his rhythm sounds human again. When you feel comfortable that he can once again breathe through his fear, you place a hand in his hair and slowly begin to stroke his scalp.
“You sacrificed yourself to save your father and your crew” you remind him. “That girl tried to shoot you, and you comforted her.”
He doesn’t reply, but appears to still be focused on slowing his breathing. You take the moment to continue on.
“You take care of this crew. You feed us and rescue us and make sure that none of us ever want for anything you can give us.”
He begins to gnaw at his bottom lip. “That doesn’t outweigh the amount of times I’ve screwed up” he counters. “You can’t tell me it does.”
You reach from him, wiping some of his tears away and tucking his ruffled bangs back. “Sanji, you were my friend when no one else wanted to be. I used to have a calendar in my room and I would count down the days until the next stupid fucking Marine Admiral dinner so I could see you at Baratie. When we’d go to school at home, I used to write your name and put little hearts around it so often that my mom would ask me if we were secretly dating when I was like, eleven.”
He sniffs. “So?”
“So” you breathe, gently pulling him back in so he’s settled comfortably against your chest. “That was when we were eleven, and I’m still here. I knew you when you were eight and like, really weird, and when you were a teenager, and when we joined this crew. I can probably count on my hands the number of days I’ve gone without seeing you since we got here. I wouldn’t have married you if you were hurting people. I wouldn’t have stayed, but you make me feel safe.”
He doesn’t reply, but brings a hand up to begin tracing a finger over your collarbone. The repeated motion seems to soothe him, skilled hands brushing over your skin so lightly that you barely feel his presence.
“I love you” you promise him. “I love you because you’re a good man. Everyone on this crew thinks so, and that’s why you’re here with us. That’s why we refused to leave there without you.”
“I left a family behind” he whispers.
“You left your abusers and an adult sister who thinks the world of you.”
He takes a deep breath, removing his hand from your collarbone and finding your fingers that he can intertwine his with.
“And” you begin, trying to keep your voice as soothing as you’ve ever made it. “You were five years old when your mom died, and she died to make you into exactly the man you are. She’d be so proud of you.”
He grips your hand. “She’d love you.”
You giggle a bit, pressing your lips to the top of his head. “Elegant genius Vinsmoke Sora would love a pirate that swears more than she showers?”
He nods. “For being yourself. And for loving me.”
All you can think to do is hold him against you as your own tears flow. You’ve often wish that you would’ve gotten the chance to meet Sanji’s mother. You love her boy so dearly. From everything Sanji has told you about his past, you know that his mother probably died thinking he wouldn’t be cared for, wouldn’t be loved. You would give anything for the chance just to tell her that you’ll take care of him.
After a few moments, you tap his back. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
You help him to rise to his feet, holding his beautiful hands in yours and even peppering kisses along them once you’re standing. Despite your affections, Sanji frowns.
“Let me help you clean this mess up” he frets. “Please. I made it. It’s the least I can do, my love.”
You take his hand, pulling him back over to your bed and slowly helping him sit back down. “You are the sweetest, most delightful man in the world. Now get your ass in this bed and keep it there.”
“My darling-“
You cut off his words with a kiss, leaning in and placing a gentle peck on his lips. He sighs, losing his resolve to tidy up and leans into your kiss.
You separate from him, but keep your lips gently brushing his.
“It’s very late” you whisper. “It’s time for bed.”
He reaches up then, grabbing the collar of your t-shirt and pulling you back down into a kiss. It’s rough, strange for Sanji. He’s not one to touch you with any sort of ferocity, even sexually. He’s always been a gentle lover. He only touches you with vigor when he’s desperate, searching for some sort of security or reassurance.
“Sanji” you gasp, pushing him away a bit. “My love, aren’t you tired? Aren’t you sore?”
He shakes his head. “Just wanna kiss you for a bit, my beautiful.”
His words are very much Sanji, but there’s still a sadness, a fear in his voice that you don’t like. It’s shaking, unsure.
He’s insistent, though, so you don’t argue with him. He wraps an arm around your back, slowly lowering you down to the sheets. You do what you can to support your own weight on the way down, but he’s quiet eager. He sets you on your back and crawls over you with a strange look in his eyes.
You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to let your concern show. “Think you should take your pain meds first?”
He replies by reconnecting your lips. He’s absolutely insatiable in this moment, gripping the sheets next to your head and forcing his tongue into your mouth. He hasn’t been like this in a while.
He sits up on his knees then, reaching to unbuckle his belt. It’s abandoned to the floor, and he wastes no time unbuttoning his jeans and flattening his body back over yours.
You want so badly to ask if he’s okay, ask what more you can do for him, but he just tastes so good. His body feels right, comfortable over yours. His hardening length on your inner thigh is a familiar pressure. You want to touch him, pleasure him, but the image of him crying out in pain is stuck in your mind.
As if the universe is reading your thoughts, Sanji groans into your mouth, but not in the way you’d like him to.
“Ji” you fret, pulling away. “Slow down. You’re really hurting.”
He presses his forehead to yours. Tears drip from his eyes and onto your cheeks, rolling down your skin as if they are your own.
“I’m sorry” he pants. “I missed you. I hated the thought of being someone else’s husband. I would’ve taken a thousand more punches and burns if it meant I didn’t have to marry someone else.”
You reach up to cradle his bruised face in your hands. He’s hot, sweating. He nearly feels feverish.
“I know you didn’t mean it” you promise him. “You’re mine. Now everyone else knows it too.”
He kisses you and speaks against your lips. “Yours. It’s the best thing I am.”
You give him a soft, warm smile. “You should really get some sleep, Sanji. You’re in your own bed with your actual wife and your crew is right down the hall. It’s okay to rest.”
He shakes his head. This change in him has happened so quickly, like all the fear and desperation has materialized into the need to physically be released. He now craves touch, feeling, something to ground him in the moment.
“I need you. I just need to touch you and make sure you’re really you” he breathes. “Please.”
Your heart burns for him. Anytime you and Sanji kiss or touch, he’s filled with joy. He smiles and laughs, places kisses all over you and showers you in praise. This need, this release of emotions is incredibly rare.
You place gentle hands on his shoulder, pushing him ever so softly to guide him down onto his back. He lets you, but is quick to wrap his arms around you again when you’re atop him to pull you close.
“Sanji” you begin in a whisper. “Talk to me. What do you need?”
He looks as though he’s about to begin panicking again. God, he hasn’t gotten like this in so long. The nightmares, the panic attacks - it all began to slow when you got engaged. Before this mess, he was getting good sleep for the first time in ages and actually resting.
He takes a deep, shaky breath, making your body rise and fall from where you straddle him.
“I used to have nightmares that Judge would find you and torture you” he begins. “And then when I was there, he told me that if he got his hands on you, he’d kill you in front of me if I ever tried to leave.”
If you ever see Vinsmoke Judge again, you’re going to kill him.
“You won” you remind him. “We’re here together. We’re all safe. It’s okay.”
He shrugs. “I’ve had nightmares about all the ways he could kill you. I’m afraid to sleep.”
There it is, the admission. It always takes you so long to coax Sanji’s true concerns.
You brush his bangs out of his eyes, stroking your fingers down his bruised cheek. “Then let’s rest. I can hold you, or I can stay up for you. I can do whatever you want me to do.”
He bats his eyes away, but reaches up to pull on the waistline of your panties.
“I…can you…” he trails off, his cheeks going red, but you understand.
You lean down to give him a quick kiss before reaching for the hem of your shirt.
“What do you need?” You ask him again, a new weight to the question as you pull your shirt over your head and reveal your bare body to him.
He reaches for you, letting his fingers slowly trace down the bumps of your vertebrae. “Anything you’re willing to give me.”
Willing to give him. It’s a terrible way to word it in your mind. You’re never ‘willing’ to give Sanji anything. You’re happy to give him everything. He already has everything. He’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only man you’ve ever given yourself to. He has your heart, your soul, your body, and he treats all of it with such tender love.
How can he not know that?
“Do you think that you have to earn love?” You ask him suddenly, climbing off of him to remove the rest of your underwear and begin work on his pants.
His eyes go wide. He doesn’t even have a reaction when you rid him of his dress pants and boxers, too focused on your face and your question to move a muscle.
Only when you gingerly take him in your hand does he exhale softly, letting his eyes drift shut.
“I do have to earn back your love” he tells you softly. “I left you.”
You sigh, but know your patience has to persevere. For Sanji, physical intimacy always brings about vulnerability. He’s emotional lover, open and feeling.
“To save me” you counter.
He doesn’t argue, but instead grips your arm as your hand tightens around his length.
You follow his lead and release him from your grip, earning a low whine as you crawl back over him. His skin is flushed and his eyes have grown glossy.
“Listen to me” you begin, hovering so your face is just a breath from his. “Everything you’ve done since the moment I met you has made my life better, Sanji. You are such a sweet boy. You don’t have to keep driving yourself into the ground to earn love from the people around you.”
He exhales, a tear finding its way down his cheek.
“I saw you” he breathes, shaking his head. “I saw the look on your face when I told Luffy I didn’t want to come back.”
You brush the tear away with your thumb. “And I was there when you begged us to let you come home. We’re not robots, Ji. We understand why you did everything you did.”
He sighs. “I never want to hurt you” he whispers. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s chaste all things considered, your hand coming to cradle his aching cheek.
“And I’m sorry that I didn’t get to you before they hurt you” you say to him, so quietly that you can barely hear your own words. “I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
So many times; so many times you’ve promised Sanji you’d never let anyone hurt him, and this week has been the ultimate betrayal of that promise.
So much is just flowing from your lips now. So much has built up in you since the moment you read Sanji’s letter that he was leaving the Strawhats. Anger, terror, guilt. Even now with Sanji in your arms, your stomach twists at the sight of his wounds.
Sanji turns his head to place a kiss on the palm of your hand. “Do you think it’s a good thing that we’re bothered by each other’s pain?”
“Maybe” you whisper, bringing your fingers to his lips to slowly trace his Cupid’s bow. “Are you still in pain?”
“Only because you’re still so far away from me” he tells you. “I want more. I want you.”
You don’t keep him waiting. Instead of trying to sort through more words, instead of forcing your tired and confused mouth to babble out more nonsense, you bend forward to press your mouth on his.
It’s most familiar thing in the word, the safest you’ve ever felt. He’s home. He’s the only person in the world that knows everything about every inch of you.
How did you manage to let him go? How in the world did you let someone hurt him?
You press yourself closer to his chest, bending so far that your behind slides back and brushes against his cock.
He hums quietly into your mouth, gently taking your face and pulling back.
“Let me sit up” he urges you. “You can sit in my lap. I know this isn’t good for your back.”
His concern reminds you of the aching and burning that’s rushing up your spine. It’s been that way since you got here, the stress doing nothing to help your constantly sore muscles.
You run a hand through his hand. “You sure? I’m more worried about your chest.”
As if to prove to you that he’s fine, he arches back a bit, stretching out his long torso. His plan backfires when he winces and curls back up at the action.
“Mmmm” he groans, desperately trying to keep his voice neutral. “I’ll be fine sitting up. It’s stretching that hurts.”
You don’t quite believe him, but you want to appease him a bit this evening. Sanji lives to please. If he has the slightest idea that he can pleasure you, he’ll go through great lengths to do just that.
You swing your legs over his narrow hips and offer him your hands. He accepts, using your strength to push himself up so he’s leaning against your headboard. You’re more than happy to quickly scramble back into his lap, his cock nestled against your stomach.
He’s still for a moment, content to lean his forehead against yours and take a few deep breaths. Typically, he’s raring to go the instant you get your clothes off. He’s always a gentleman of course, trembling as he asks to perform his every move and waiting to see how you respond before he proceeds. He is never, however, calm and silent. He’s a whiny, impatient darling. This slow and soft behavior is new.
“You okay?” You wonder, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer.
The friction brings that familiar moan from his throat, but he doesn’t pull away from you.
“I really thought I’d never be with you like this again” he whispers. “I laid in bed every night and just tried to remember everything about you so I wouldn’t forget you.”
That pain is back again, the one in the center of your chest that rears its ugly head whenever you think of Sanji’s suffering. There’s nothing more you can do, no closer you can hold him, and yet you still feel like you have to be better for him, be more.
“What can I do?” You wonder. “ I wanna make this easier for you.”
He kisses you gently, loosely, letting his lips stay on yours as he speaks. “You’re perfect” he tells you simply. “There’s nothing more you could possibly do for me than just being you, my darling.”
You kiss him again. He grabs your hips, pulling you against him in a slow, languid rolling motion.
He devours the friction. His moans on your lips are delicious, deep and trembling as that usual impatience begins to creep into his movements.
He pulls his lips from yours and buries his face into the crook of your neck. Wet, kiss-swollen lips lave at your skin.
“I need you” he whispers, his voice shaking. “Please.”
As much as you adore hearing Sanji beg, you know shouldn’t keep him on edge tonight. Physical touch, love-making, intimacy; all are things that have always been able to calm your lover’s racing mind. Knowing that your body is enough to set his mind at ease is a strange yet endearing feeling.
You sit yourself up on your knees, taking his length in your hand and slowly -as if to savor it- sink your body down over his.
His eyes slowly shut as a sigh leaves his body. Relief is written on his face, his head rolling back to settle against the wall.
You let your fingers brush gently across his cheeks. “Sanji?”
A hard swallow bobs his Adam’s apple in his throat, but he doesn’t look up to you. He just wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest.
The shift in his position inside you makes you shiver. You want so badly to grasp his face and kiss him until you can’t breathe, but you don’t want to rush him. He’s been through so much. He’s been so deprived of softness and care for all his life while working tirelessly to give it to others.
He deserves your warmth. He deserves your patience.
After a minute of this odd peace, he raises his head and buries his face back into your neck. His hands raise you slowly on his hips, pumping his cock into you a few time before his grip tightens.
“Is this okay?” He wonders, kissing your neck. “I hope I didn’t rush you.”
You’re so lost in the delectable, burning stretch of taking him that you nearly miss his question. His face is shrouded in worry when you look up at him.
You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. To qualm his worries, you press your hips down until he bottoms out, so deep that you tilt your head back to let out a quiet moan. He nearly whines as you grind forward, his entire length buried inside you.
“Oh fuck” he breathes. “Fuck, I was made for you, darling.”
His words, the sounds he makes; it’s all like fine wine to you. It spurs you on, knowing that the longer you have him whining and shaking beneath you, the closer you get to being drunk on his fucked out, spacey expression in the afterglow.
You want to ravage him, bite down on his tender flesh and bounce your body on his cock, but you refrain. He’s too sweet with his face nuzzling your neck. His little whines are too soft.
“I love you” you assure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good to me.”
The praise makes him thrust his hips up to meet you. You can feel his cock throbbing, fingers digging into your hips to hold you down as he continues his slow pace.
He attaches his lips to your neck and nips at the skin. “Can I lay you down? I want more.”
You nod, urging his face from your neck so you could press a kiss to his lips.
He wastes no time pulling your body even tighter against his and guiding you gently down into the sheets, being sure to cradle your head before softly letting it down on your pillow.
You smile up at him, his cheeks blushed.
“You know I basically helped fight the mob this weekend, yeah?” You remind him. “You’re being so gentle.”
Your teasing doesn’t seem to get to him. His face is almost trance-like. He moves a piece of hair out of your face and exhales.
“You deserve to be kept safe” he tells you. “Even from me.”
There’s something heavy about the sentiment, something that weighs on your chest. He says it with such a kind and soft voice, but you hate every bit of it. There’s nothing about Sanji you’d ever need to be kept safe from, nothing in him that could hurt you.
“Sanji” you breathe, aching hips crying out just a bit as he hooks your legs around his hips so he can sink back into you.
You try to contain yourself as you arch close to him from the sensation. He feels perfect inside you, finally as close to you as possible where you can pleasure him with just a grind of your hips or a ghosting of your lips over skin.
“Ji” you whine. “My love, there’s nothing about you I want to be safe from.”
He replies by pressing his hips into yours, beginning to set a steady pace of his body on yours. It’s clear that he no longer wants so speak, but instead wants to chase his own high while pulling moans from your throat.
You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full of him. Every time your bodies meet, he feels deeper, closer than usual. It might be the unbearable longing you’ve had for him the last few weeks. It might be the way he’s clawing you closer, trying to press the space between the two of you away, but you don’t care. He’s finally here with you, exactly the way you’ve needed for so many nights.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, unable to help yourself as you gingerly sink your teeth into his shoulder. You’re nearly hungry for him. Even having his cock fucking deeper into you with every thrust isn’t close enough.
He cries out into your neck at the unexpected sting. You don’t let the pain linger for long, kitten licking the pink mark you left on his flesh.
“My darling” he moans, lips still pressed against your neck. “More. Please.”
He continues to whine into your shoulder when his words are finished, his hips striking yours with and aching, newfound fervor.
Your lips caress the teeth mark now throbbing before you. “You’re already bruised enough, my love. I don’t wanna leave anymore marks on you.”
He reaches down to grab your thighs then, hiking them up further so he can press closer to you. The new angle is punishing. He slows his pace, but only so he can keep his cock buried inside you to repeatedly grind up into your g-spot.
“Please” he pleads, huffing into your neck. “Please. I need more. It makes me feel human.”
His words tear you open down the middle.
Make him feel human.
You tangle your fingers into his hair and give a pull. He moans, the deep sound spreading from his chest to yours as it vibrates through your ribs.
Pain. That’s new for Sanji.
“I don’t want to hurt you” you admit to him, releasing his hair and stroking it softly back over his head.
He places a featherlight kiss on you neck. “I like it. I promise. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
He’s never been one to ask you for things like this in bed. He’s all about pleasing you, giving you everything. Your ecstasy has always provided him with his own, so you’re a little thrown hearing him ask for something in such a desperate tone.
You return the soft kiss on his cheek. “Okay. Let me know if you want me to tone it down.”
He nods, sighing when you lock your ankles in the small of his back.
Your bodies are pressed so closely that you can almost feel his heartbeat as his thrusts pick up again. He’s shaking, maybe from his injuries, maybe from the anticipation when your teeth graze against his neck. You test the waters by giving little nips to the sensitive skin.
His breath hitches, his hips stuttering a bit. “Please. Baby, please.”
You let your hands fall a bit from his hair, landing on his broad shoulders. Your teeth migrate down as well and bite down into his other shoulder.
He thrusts so deeply into you that you scream into the bite, teeth sinking even further.
“Oh. Oh fuck“ he moans. “Thank you baby. Fuck.”
You remove your teeth, the taste of iron on your tongue. White hot terror sears through you when you see a small trail of blood trickle down his shoulder and drip onto your skin. You freeze, reaching for the wound.
“Sanji-“
“Don’t apologize” he interjects quickly. “Feels so good.”
He readjusts himself so he’s higher on your body, your knees nearly touching your shoulders. The position burns nearly every muscle in your body, but his cock is so deep that you can’t bring yourself to care.
“So full” you mumble, head lolling back into the pillows. “Fuck, Sanji. More for me, sweet boy.”
Sanji takes the opportunity to kiss your throat, drawing the tip of his tongue up until he can kiss at your chin, your cheeks. It clear that he’s eating the praise up, hips stuttering with each thrust after it leaves your lips.
“I love you” he groans into your skin. “Fuck, I love you. So close.”
You don’t know what’s coming over you, but you let your fingernails drag down Sanji’s back until your hands reach his behind. You’re desperate for him. You claw at his toned bum, hips, back. You know you’re leaving marks, but you’re too far gone now. His thrusts are deep and hard, his cock barely leaving your body as he chases his high.
“So good, baby” you praise him, words pouring from your lips like honey. “So good, Sanji. Let go for me.”
He whines into your neck. He’s trembling above you, body weight almost completely pressed down onto your as he nips and sucks at your neck.
God, you’re both going to be marked up to hell tomorrow. You’ll never hear the end of it from Nami, but you don’t care.
You have your Sanji. He’s with you. He’s in you. You have everything you need.
“Fuck” Sanji cries suddenly. “I can’t…I can’t, baby.”
Contrary to the rest of the evening, you gently kiss his cheek. “Tell me what you need.”
He pulls his face away from you, but you’re stunned to find tears streaming down his face.
“Sanji” you gasp, reaching up to wipe them away with your thumb.
His eyes flutter closed as he continues to fuck into you. “I need…fuck, you. More. Anything.”
You cradle his face in your hands and bring his forehead down to meet yours. His tears dripping onto your cheeks is like a baptism, washing the horror, the pain, the terror of the last few days. The sins you engaged in to bring him back to you are cleaned from your soul when he buries himself into you and finally finds his peak. You’re right behind him, the heat of it all pushing you rapidly over the edge as you cling to him for some sort of balance.
He cries your name in a broken, quiet voice as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm. You’re enamored by his huffing breath and quiet whines. It’s perfect. It’s Sanji.
He’s with you. He’s safe.
You don’t know how much time passes after. Sanji rolls onto his back, holding you on top of him with a grip that almost feels fearful. You speak to him a hushed tone while you stroke his skin.
“I’m here. No one’s gonna take me from you.”
“You’re safe. You’re home.”
“I’m not letting you go again.”
He continues to silently cry, but it feels almost like a release. His breathing slows and his heart calms as the tears flow, his muscles easing until the two of you are tangled together in a comfortable cuddle.
After what seems like hours, you prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him.
He smiles at you, a real smile despite his eyes still being swollen from his tears.
“Hi” he whispers.
You push his bangs out of his eyes. “Hi. I think I need a shower.”
He pouts. “I don’t want you to leave me.”
The warmth in your heart from seeing your husband’s typical goofiness is indescribable.You’re no fool. You know it’s going to be awhile before he’s himself again, and you know that this experience is always going to be a shadow that gazes at the two of you every now again. But, if you can just hold onto him, hold him together when he begins to fray, you’re confident that the two of you can grin and bear it together.
You lean down to kiss his nose. He can’t maintain the pout when you do, lips breaking into a smile.
“You should check to see if Chopper is still awake” you urge him, knowing that night-owl doctor is surely still in his room mixing away with his medicines. “Have him take a look at that burn, and then we can go to sleep.”
You know that it’s the post-sex brain fog that makes him give in, but a win is a win.
“Fine” he caves. “But hurry back. I never wanna sleep without my beauty again.”
The two of you untangle your bodies and throw on whatever clothes you can find, but as sanji reaches for the doorknob, you stop him.
“Ji?” You begin, walking up behind your husband and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything for my sweet.”
You hesitate, not wanting to upset him further, but knowing you won’t be able to rest with the question still lingering in your mind.
“What did you mean when you said ‘it makes me feel human’?” You breathe, the question feeling sour on your lips.
Sanji is quiet for a solid two minutes. You don’t rush him, but you do grow nervous when his grip on your hands tightens.
Finally, he tangles his fingers with yours and sighs.
“They’re barely human beings” he whispers. “My brothers, I mean. They don’t…they don’t feel anything.”
You and Sanji had a conversation about his siblings in the hours after leaving Tatto, but he didn’t want to go too deeply into it. You stay quiet, waiting for him to be ready to speak.
“It’s part of the reason I always have my hands all over you” he tells you, a small change in his voice making you lift your head a bit. “Besides, ya know, your stunning and indescribable beauty.”
You tickle his belly a bit, earning a small laugh before he continues speaking.
“I figure that if I can touch you and feel my heart beat faster, or see you naked and still get nervous, then I win. I can still feel.”
You kiss his bare back. “I don’t want that to include hurting yourself or letting other people hurt you.”
“It doesn’t” he promises you. “But to let you bite me or scratch me and be able to trust that you won’t take it too far is about as vulnerable as I can get. I like trusting you. I like testing that boundary, if that makes any sort of sense. Every time I do, I get reassured that I’m loved.”
The tears are instant. Never, not a single time in your relationship has Sanji acknowledged that he is, in fact, incredibly loved. He always darts his eyes away and gives an awkward laugh when you remind him.
‘I’m loved.’
It’s the most amazing thing he’s ever said you.
“I fucking love you” you breathe. “I missed you, Sanji.”
He sighs at the feeling of your lips tracing along the skin of his back. “I missed being able to trust someone around me. I love you.”
“I trust you” you assure him, bringing your kisses across his aching shoulders. “Do you trust me?”
“With my soul.”