( while the thought of them fighting over nami’s vagina is partially hilarious, the other part is her usual reaction to their bickering — playful annoyance. it’s time to play on the offensive side, she decides. )
what if we both got on our knees for you? whose throat would you fuck? what if you’re the one who needs satisfying?
[ this conversation has become unwieldy, and if it were anyone but nami he would have told them to shut up a long time ago, but — he doesn’t have that option here. ]
nami, i wouldn’t do that to you. it’s degrading. so his.
it is. i’m asking, what if what we want to do together involves you? what if we both want to make you feel good? you were doing a lot for both of us, last time. i want to know what it would be like the other way.
[ there isn't anything he wouldn't do for nami, his loyalty limitless, his love a steady, growing thing even if nami can't say it as freely as he can. but the things she's proposing? being with nami is easy. it's as natural as breathing. to submit himself to zoro in the same way would be like offering up a rabbit to be skinned and butchered. he can't picture himself going down without a fight. ]
( a lull in her writing, while she thinks about what to say, what wouldn’t betray zoro’s confidence. he never outright said there was anything pulpy and soft between the two of them, but it was an impression nami got — between the gaps of his words, and his hasty, almost angrily written script. not something she can necessarily describe without lying or assuming, and she doesn’t think she should, anyway. it’s about them. )
he said he didn’t think there was a you and him without me. but i don’t really think he’s thought about it. and i think you and me were under the influence of that blood gunk when we slept together at the orgy. so we also had outside intervention, like the mistletoe. but you don’t blame that, do you? because you know it would hurt my feelings. well, i think zoro’s feelings are hurt. or maybe just a little bruised. he didn’t say that, i’m assuming things.
[ no, he doesn't blame that. even without the influence of the blood ritual, being with her feels like an inevitability. he's been in love with her since the moment he first saw her sitting in the baratie, after all.
whatever... thing has been building between zoro and him, borne first of his grief over nami, it now exists as something so staunchly real that sanji can no longer pretend it away. he can't just erase the weeks of zoro's gentle hands on his bloody face, his solid presence in their shared bed at night, the brief, accidental brushes of sleep-warmed skin. he can't forget that zoro had been the one to brush his tears away with the grace to never mention his weakness, day after day. and then zoro had gotten nami back, for him, and sanji just —
he really hasn't said much of anything to zoro since. except for berating him about the mistletoe and then getting on his knees for him to put his dick in his mouth. ]
there was a me and him. i just don't really
i need to get started on your tarts. i'm going to fetch the oranges myself.
( it's definitely more than enough progress for one day — if she's honest, it's further than nami thought she would get anyway, so she's happy to let it rest there. in fact, the reasonable thing to do would be to let sanji process alone, and give him the same distance he gave her, when she ran away.
unfortunately, she is not sanji. she is much worse. )
can i come with? we don't have to talk, i just wanna shop. ( see: spend time with you. ) i'll let you carry my baaaaag. and you can teach me how to spot the good fruits from the bad ones.
( she grew up in a tangerine grove. she knows a spoiled orange when she sees it. what she doesn't know is if sanji will spiral or not without distractions. )
[ he wouldn't say no to nami regardless, but especially not after losing her — and he has time, anyway, to wipe his eyes, his notebook balanced on his knees where he sits on the floor of their bedroom, his back against the door. his throat feels tight, his hands unsteady as he writes.
at least this way he can avoid seeing zoro until he's busy in the kitchen, and it'll be easy enough to shoo him into the bedroom, where nami is sure to be dozing by then with a belly full of sweet pastries. nami had mentioned the idea of her and zoro enough times that sanji is comfortable believing it's what she wants, rather than whatever... all of this was. both of them, coming after him. ]
of course you can come with me! fruit-picking with nami 💓 i'll see you soon!
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cw: nsfw
what if we both got on our knees for you? whose throat would you fuck?
what if you’re the one who needs satisfying?
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nami, i wouldn’t do that to you. it’s degrading.
so his.
[ he’s never. done that to anyone. 😔 ]
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so i’d get left out? what if i got lonely?
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my mouth and my hands would be free to do anything you wanted.
i thought this was about you and zoro, though. what the two of you want to do together.
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what if we both want to make you feel good? you were doing a lot for both of us, last time. i want to know what it would be like the other way.
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did zoro say something to you about me?
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i'm not going to be unfair to him.
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( a lull in her writing, while she thinks about what to say, what wouldn’t betray zoro’s confidence. he never outright said there was anything pulpy and soft between the two of them, but it was an impression nami got — between the gaps of his words, and his hasty, almost angrily written script. not something she can necessarily describe without lying or assuming, and she doesn’t think she should, anyway. it’s about them. )
he said he didn’t think there was a you and him without me. but i don’t really think he’s thought about it.
and
i think you and me were under the influence of that blood gunk when we slept together at the orgy. so we also had outside intervention, like the mistletoe. but you don’t blame that, do you? because you know it would hurt my feelings.
well, i think zoro’s feelings are hurt. or maybe just a little bruised.
he didn’t say that, i’m assuming things.
no subject
whatever... thing has been building between zoro and him, borne first of his grief over nami, it now exists as something so staunchly real that sanji can no longer pretend it away. he can't just erase the weeks of zoro's gentle hands on his bloody face, his solid presence in their shared bed at night, the brief, accidental brushes of sleep-warmed skin. he can't forget that zoro had been the one to brush his tears away with the grace to never mention his weakness, day after day. and then zoro had gotten nami back, for him, and sanji just —
he really hasn't said much of anything to zoro since. except for berating him about the mistletoe and then getting on his knees for him to put his dick in his mouth. ]
there was a me and him.
i just don't really
i need to get started on your tarts.
i'm going to fetch the oranges myself.
no subject
unfortunately, she is not sanji. she is much worse. )
can i come with? we don't have to talk, i just wanna shop. ( see: spend time with you. ) i'll let you carry my baaaaag. and you can teach me how to spot the good fruits from the bad ones.
( she grew up in a tangerine grove. she knows a spoiled orange when she sees it. what she doesn't know is if sanji will spiral or not without distractions. )
no subject
at least this way he can avoid seeing zoro until he's busy in the kitchen, and it'll be easy enough to shoo him into the bedroom, where nami is sure to be dozing by then with a belly full of sweet pastries. nami had mentioned the idea of her and zoro enough times that sanji is comfortable believing it's what she wants, rather than whatever... all of this was. both of them, coming after him. ]
of course you can come with me!
fruit-picking with nami 💓
i'll see you soon!