#it's zosan supremacy all day over here

[soleilnomoon]

admonish ; sanji x zoro.

1.5k words, angst (bc i'm trash), nsfw-ish or whatever

summary (of sorts): a modern au, college/uni type of fic. typical boyfriend woes; zoro's an idiot and sanji is high-maintenance. they're both too stubborn to communicate properly.

cw: smoking/cigarettes. a fic for @strawhatsoraya who has waited so patiently, ily.

it’s on an eerily quiet thursday night that sanji discovers just how obtuse his boyfriend is. he stares up at the ceiling in his dorm room, moonlight slipping inside, its ethereal glow caressing whatever’s in its path. he’s smoking again, a habit he swore to break—surprisingly at the urging of said obtuse boyfriend, whose only goal in life is to stay fit until he dies—yet there he is. his window is cracked open, wide enough to filter the remnants of the smoke. he’s done it enough times to know exactly how long he can keep his cigarette lit before the smoke detector snitches to the entire building.

not that it matters to him, anyway.

as the slim cigarette dangles in between his lips, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, fingers tapping on the smooth screen until he pulls up the messaging thread between him and—

“this…idiot,” he says suddenly, voice even despite his rising annoyance; he sits up while his eyebrow twitches underneath his delicately coiffed, golden strands of hair. “i bet he didn’t even read any of what i wrote.” why he bothers using such an advanced means of communicating with such a seemingly geriatric man is beyond him; robin teases him incessantly about it, often remarking that she finds it tragically adorable the way sanji simply cannot be on the same wavelength as him no matter how hard he tries. and he hates how right she is about it—especially now.

it’s only 8:49 p.m., but his boyfriend is late.

which shouldn’t come as a surprise to him as timeliness is not one of zoro’s strong suits—but still, sanji hated waiting like this. the feeling of not being good enough cuts through him deeply, his chest aching, memories that were hidden long ago resurface with a vengeance. his heart is a pitiful, helpless thing that does more harm than good for him these days. not a thing can remedy this level of foolishness. and yet—something inside of him wishes otherwise.

he finishes the cigarette faster than he means to, hopping off of his bed to put the rest of it out. his hands rest comfortably on the desk before him, fingers drumming along the surface, a deep exhale expunging his lungs of the rest of the smoke. 

there’s really no need for him to react like this, but zoro is absurdly popular—not that he cares about it; which only makes him that much popular. sanji hates it—hates him, even.

“no,” he says out loud, “that’s a lie, i don’t hate him.”

couldn’t hate him, even if he tried. and, yes, he has tried. on more than one occasion at that.

and while he’s busy overanalyzing everything, busy tearing himself apart from the inside, busy doubting, a voice from behind startles him into silence.

“what a relief,” the voice from behind him says teasingly, “you don’t hate me.” there is only one person on the entire plane whose voice will continue to haunt him even in the afterlife; and that voice belongs to roronoa zoro. it echoes around sanji with a vengeance; a rich, deep, intoxicating sound. he visibly flinches, back ramrod straight, but he relaxes after a moment, sighing while reaching for another cigarette.

“you’re late,” sanji says simply, doing his best to hide his negative feelings for fear of being seen as clingy or unworthy—maybe both. his fingers shake a little, but he manages to grip his lighter just fine, clicking it repeatedly, cursing when the flame refuses to come out.

zoro rolls his eyes and crowds sanji’s space, a flush crawling along his skin at zoro’s proximity. “i don’t need help,” he reminds his meathead of a boyfriend, but does he listen? absolutely not. zoro grabs the lighter from sanji’s lithe fingers, thumb clicking hard and watching the glowing flame burst out. despite wanting to be stubborn and remain put, sanji leans forward a bit, the tip of the flame lighting the cigarette instantly.

with a tilt of his head, zoro studies sanji carefully, dark eyes narrowing slightly before his face relaxes. “tell me what you want me to do,” he mumbles before dropping the lighter onto the desk, beside sanji’s hand.

another sigh escapes his lips. “i shouldn’t have to tell you to not be late.” he’s being petty and callous, he knows that, but—for some reason he can’t explain, zoro brings that out of him. sanji sits on top of the desk, lips pulling against the cigarette again, the smoke sliding out of his mouth smoothly as it flits off to the side. sanji raises a brow when zoro presses closer, stepping in between his legs carelessly and plucking the cigarette from his mouth.

“h-hey, give that back.”

zoro ignores the request, opting to put the cigarette out against the side of the desk, earning a smack on his arm from sanji.

“are you kidding me? that desk was custom made, you… ass.” it isn’t entirely a lie; he’d gotten the desk from the previous tenant, but it was in such good condition that he just let people assume it was.

again, zoro ignores his words, mouth determined as he repeats himself. “tell me,” his voice drops a bit, mouth grazing the shell of sanji’s ear, “what do you want me to do?” he’ll repeat it as many times as sanji needs; besides, he doesn’t have much use for unnecessary words, so this is a lot for him. obviously. his mouth nips on his earlobe, causing sanji to inhale sharply, the cigarette be damned, he might actually forgive zoro if he keeps this up.

“so?” zoro prompts again, uncertainty steadily rising within him. it always feels like he’s walking on eggshells, his words sometimes too rough and raw for his sensitive boyfriend. luffy likes to chime in and say that getting sanji a gift will always help smooth things over—except the gifts that luffy suggests are almost always something that will make sanji snap at him over. so, zoro refrains from listening to him. mostly.

“let me think for a second, damn it,” sanji snaps, but there’s no malice behind his words. at that, zoro drags his mouth down the length of his throat, skin soft and delicate, his tongue darting out to taste him. again, sanji inhales, his heart beating wildly, nearly choking him with the reverberations that pass through his chest. he can barely think, and zoro won’t cut him a break. with his lips pressed together, sanji pretends to be lost in thought, but really he’s trying—very hard, at that—to not let zoro’s mouth distract him anymore than it already has. that is, until he bites him on a spot that’s so sensitive that sanji’s fingers curl into zoro’s shirt tightly, back arching as zoro continues bullying the skin there. 

his tongue flicks against the spot, alternating between sucking and licking, as sanji’s muffled moans threaten to escape his mouth. if anything, zoro wants him to actually cut loose, live a little more freely and not worry about what others think of them. zoro presses a few more heated kisses on sanji’s neck, only pulling away once sanji’s fingers grip his hair and tug his head back. both struggle to keep their breathing regulated, and sanji’s face burns under the heat of zoro’s gaze.

“i’m waiting,” zoro manages to say, his arousal quickly influencing his thoughts.

sanji rolls his eyes in an attempt to seem aloof, but of course, zoro sees right through it. he always does. “shut up,” he says resignedly, his forehead gently pressed against zoro’s as he speaks. “shut up and kiss me.” another blush stains his cheeks, something that pleased zoro for some reason. these little things piled up one after the other in his head, making it difficult to focus during the day. sanji occupies more of his thoughts than absolutely necessary, confusing him repeatedly. dealing with physical attraction is one thing, emotions an entirely different beast to conquer.

but, he won’t think about that yet.

he’ll just enjoy this moment and figure something else out later. 

a sly smile works its way onto his lips as he brushes them against sanji’s; the latter sighing into his mouth, the taste of spice and cinnamon on his tongue as they kiss. with a quick caress of his tongue, sanji clings onto zoro, breathless and needy, returning each kiss with a feverish kiss of his own. zoro’s hands roam down sanji’s back, diving lower until they settle on his ass, grabbing it impishly, earning a startled whimper from sanji.

despite being overcome with desire, sanji is the first to pull back; his tongue runs along his lower lip as he looks at zoro, eyes half-closed, pulse skyrocketing from his cock straining in his pants. he’s sure zoro’s in a similar predicament—he can feel the bulge press against him, wicked, sinful, giving sanji the sort of rush that might end with his life being ruined.

and surprisingly, he’s okay with it.

“i’m still mad at you,” sanji says weakly, unable to keep his hands off of zoro, long fingers sifting through his short hair—always reminding him of the sea; wild, startling, and mesmerizing. 

“i know,” zoro admits without worry, “i’ll make it up to you.”

#*washes my hands of this* it is finally done #one piece imagine #one piece smut #rorona zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #let them be gay oda damn #fic request #zosan au #it's zosan supremacy all day over here #zosan