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bidisastersanji · 5 months

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IT IS HERE! the filthy french smut epilogue of the Zoro learns French story is here. Get it right here on this hellsite (ch.1 ch.2 , ch.3 and below) or straight from the source on AO3. Thank you to everyone who comments or screams in the tags you absolutely give me life

Special shoutout to @jooqlz for their wonderful art inspired by the story I'm still not over that check it out right here: (pt 1 & 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5)

And without further ado, please do not ever perceive me after reading this absolute filth. thank you.

Sanji had always been a very handsome man. A man so distractingly handsome that Zoro had to put effort into not noticing certain...things about the cook, effort to keep his eyes from wandering to dangerous places that would unfailingly leave him wanting and ears pink from the lecherous thoughts swirling between them. He’d retreat to the crow’s nest and train his impulses away, hoping that the heavy weights and burning muscles would ground him back into a relaxed, meditative state.

It was the hypnotising way his fingers danced, so elegant and long when working in the galley- he simply couldn’t tear his eyes off them when they handled his impeccably sharp knives- or how deliciously taut and strong his calves and thighs would feel against him as they sparred. More than once had Zoro woken up breathless, drenched in sweat, uncomfortably hard and blinking away the vestiges of a dream where those deadly legs had been wrapped tight around him. There was just something so enticing about the resounding power emanating from Sanji- his mind going haywire from the knowledge that this man could handle him, meet him blow for blow all while cheekily throwing taunts and insults in his face.

It was also how beautifully free his form looked when he jumped above him in a skywalk, the way his ocean blue eyes would crinkle when he laughed at the crews’ antics and how his soft blonde curls would catch the sun sometimes. Those moments were possibly harder for him to get out of his system, leaving him with both a heavy and fluttering sensation in his chest.

And his ass. Oh fuck, his ass.

Zoro was an ass man through and through: he’d sailed up and down the Grand Line and had never seen anything else like it. The cook’s proclivity for crisp, tailored suits that stretched decadently across his backside with every kick made it impossible to ignore. So many times had he been dangerously close to just reaching out and grabbing it. Fingers tensing at the primal urge to know how they would fit, would feel in his hands, it fanned the flames of an ever-growing heat in the pit of his stomach. Those perfect, round mounds of muscle just out of reach, teasing him whenever the cook bent over to retrieve something in a low cupboard or when he’d catch a glimpse of their bare pallor in the baths. No wonder he didn’t spend much time on hygiene- Sanji always took his damned time in there, and he wasn’t a glutton for punishment.

The blonde also had a rather elegant neck, just begging to be kissed. To be fair, there was nary an inch of Sanji that Zoro didn’t think of kissing. For so long had Zoro fantasized about just tugging him by his tie or the lapels of his jacket to shut him up nicely, tasting his nicotine-stained lips. Which he had the pleasure of doing right now.

Finally.

He’d imagined this a hundred- no, a thousand times over, but it still didn’t compare to actually holding the beautiful man pressed against his body and hearing him let out positively sinful little whines of pleasure as they hurriedly kissed in the Sunny’s unoccupied first mate’s quarters.

Brunch had been a rowdy affair as usual, with Zoro buzzing for it to be over as soon as possible, knowing the cook wouldn’t be able to relax until everyone had had their fill.

The wait was worth it, he thinks to himself as one of his hands slithers its way down from Sanji’s flushed cheeks, enjoying the soft little exhales he lets out as his hand caresses down his neck, his chest, his narrow waist, his lower back, finally settling on his perfectly round butt. He pulls Sanji in even closer- the other man’s growing arousal poking against his thigh, firm and warm through the fabric separating them. Zoro treats himself to the enticing thought of that heat in his mouth but is quickly distracted by the fingers the cook had threaded into his short hair suddenly tightening, the pleasing pulling sensation on his scalp shooting down his neck like a shiver.

Fuck. That feels good.

Zoro can’t fight the needy groan that rips out of his throat at finally getting his hands on the cook’s ass, and his other hand quickly joins it, happily palming and squeezing it, fortuitously causing some delicious friction between their legs. He drops his head into the crook of Sanji’s neck, overwhelmed by the all-encompassing need coursing through his veins. Need to feel skin flush with skin. Need to make this man come undone and cry his name, over and over. This was a long time coming.

“J-J’ai envie de toi...” he stumbles a bit on the delivery, the foreign words still unfamiliar on his kiss-swollen lips. (I-I want you...)

Pressed up close, he doesn’t miss the high-pitched moan that Sanji tries to swallow down before he feels himself get tugged up by his hair, his eye brought back to level with the cook’s own. Maybe it’s the gratifying sting of his hair being pulled some more, or maybe it’s the heavy-lidded, wanton look that Sanji gives him, but he feels a shiver run across his skin. Nervously, the blonde’s pink tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, catching the swordsman’s eye.

“Comment me veux-tu, abruti?” (How do you want me, moron?)

Zoro honestly could go either way, but something in him stirs at Sanji’s provocativeness, and the following words spill out of him, words he’d have never said with a straight face before his run-in with a certain type of French literature.

“Je-” his voice comes out raspy, deep. “Je te veux...plié en deux sur ce lit me suppliant de te prendre,” he starts, and Sanji’s breath hitches, his hand dropping to grip at Zoro’s shirt, steadying himself.

“que tu te serves de tes satanées cuisses pour te bercer contre moi.” Zoro grins, confidence growing, feral at the sight of a lone drop of blood oozing from Sanji’s nose. “Et quand tu seras assez désespéré, je veux te faire jouir jusqu'à ce que ta voix se brise.”

(I want you... bent in half on the bed, begging me to take you, using your damned thighs to rock yourself against me. And once you’re desperate enough, I want to make you come until your voice breaks.)

He can almost feel Sanji’s brain short circuit in front of him. Things are a blur after that. It’s a race of getting each other out of their stifling garments, the singing relief of skin-to-skin contact, desperate kisses, nips, bites and nails pressing deep into Zoro’s biceps as he works the pliant man under him open with two lubed-up fingers.

They’re both on the bed now, Zoro holding himself up over the writhing blonde, hair a sweaty, curly mess in a beautiful halo around his head and his legs hooked in a vice-like grip around his torso, arms wrapped around his neck. The messy, pleasured noises Sanji makes are positively obscene, shooting straight to his dick, and it’s taking all his concentration to focus on rubbing up against his sweet spot, just enough to drive the cook crazy but slowing down every time he can feel him clench hard, getting closer to the precipice.

“Enfoiré! Si tu-” (Bastard! If you-)

Sanji’s impassioned rant at Zoro edging him is immediately cut short by a third finger pressing against his rim, and he eagerly presses his hips up into the pleasant stretch of Zoro’s thick fingers spreading him even more, eyes screwing shut.

“Mnh! Yesss,” he purrs into the swordsman’s ear.

A wet heat envelops his earlobe and his three earrings chime against each other as Sanji decides to play with his them. Head foggy with lust, Zoro wonders how Sanji was so easily able to find this weak spot of his, his hand’s pace stuttering and slowing down at the sensual licks against his sensitive ear.

“S-shitty cook-”

“Bet you can’t say that in French,” Sanji coyly challenges him, a hot whisper in his ear.

Zoro times his answer with a couple of sharper thrusts, making Sanji cry out at the onslaught against his prostate. “Cuistot de merde,” Sanji can probably hear his smugness in his voice. “What, you don’t think that’s one of the first things I asked to learn?”

“You- hnng! You fucker, even in French you don’t call me a proper chef!”

Zoro chuckles and decides this is a good time as any to still his fingers once more. Angry, needy eyes with blown out pupils crack open to stare deeply into his own. He takes the moment to wipe away the blood under Sanji’s nose and licks it, the metallic taste coating his tongue beautifully.

“Fine. If that’s how it is.” The stubborn cook leverages his legs’ hold on him to fuck himself onto Zoro’s fingers. He slowly builds himself up again, simultaneously rocking on the swordsman’s hand and stroking his length with his own, and it’s not long before his eyes flutter close in concentration, chasing his release, brow damp with sweat.

Zoro makes a little strangled noise, dumbstruck by how stupidly good he looks taking his fingers, how hot and swollen his dick is, and how the obscene wet noises and hypnotising dance of his hips are making the tip of his cock leak against his stomach. Why wasn’t he fucking him into the mattress again?

Sanji’s breathless voice cuts through the fog. “You happy? ‘this what you wanted, mosshead?”

Ah, right. He remembered now. “Close. I said I’d make you beg for it, curly.”

“Fuck. You wouldn’t dare. Not again.” Sanji’s free hand shoots down to try and stop his thick wrist from pulling away.

“I would.”

Sanji makes a choked, desperate sound at the feeling of Zoro's hand starting its slow retreat, a small litany of ‘nos’ dropping from his lips as he once again feels his orgasm get away, his practiced hand stroking his dick not nearly enough to get him there at this point.

Adorable. Zoro hears his blood roar in his ears at the sight, making a point to burn the cook’s desperate look into his memory. He’s aching to be inside him at this point, but unless he hears the magic word, he’ll keep holding himself back.

After a few more fruitless pumps, head thrown back, Sanji seemingly makes up his mind. “Please,” he sobs.

Zoro’s three fingers immediately resume their movements with purpose, pressing perfectly against Sanji on each powerful thrust. The swordsman is positively transfixed by the sight of the sweaty, flushed and desperate man before him, the shaky moans and gasps egging him on, driving him into a frenzy as he builds him up once more.

Sanji felt dizzy with want after having been denied so many times. First, the stupid brute short-circuited his brain by whispering those filthy things to him with his cute stupid little accent, and then had the gall to call him a cuistot, and fuck!

He honestly can’t even form a coherent thought at this point. He can only feel. His body is so strung-up and buzzing with pent-up pleasure, the mind-numbingly good stretch and press of Zoro’s fingers inside him and the stuttering jerks of his fist around his cock are all that his world have boiled down to, and nothing short of a buster call can stop him from coming into his lover’s arms.

Distantly, he feels Zoro ghost his lips over his collarbone, whispering dirty nothings to him, licking up his throat, kissing his jaw... How dare he be so stupidly attentive, so good, so-

“MMmn!” He bites down on his lip, hard.

Sanji comes, dissolving into pleasure, rippling, splintering heat rushing through his body, muscles pulled tight as Zoro keeps working him through wave after wave, kissing his temple and holding him close as spurts of his cum stain their stomachs. He faintly registers that the moans and repeated cries of Zoro’s name and yes, more, please, right there are his own voice, but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s semi lucid again, he loosens his legs’ death grip on the man’s torso, idly wondering if bruises will bloom there overnight. Chest still heaving, he opens his eyes and is met with a sight he’s sure to never forget. Zoro’s wild look of pure, unadulterated hunger as he licks a drop of his cum from his fingers would make his knees buckle if he were standing, and knowing he’s like this- a panting, flushed and sweaty mess because of him makes Sanji preen with pride. He’s barely even touched the man.

Speaking of, he finally gets his hands on the broad, scarred chest he’s itched to grope oh so many times, letting his thumb experimentally start teasing a nipple. He drags his eyes down and wets his lips at the sight before him. He’d been right. Zoro truly has it all, and he can feel himself stirring again already.

“Like what you see?”

In lieu of an answer, Sanji reaches down and wraps his long, deft fingers at the base of the swordsman’s wonderful girth, earning him a little hiss of pleasure as he starts lazily gliding up and down the velvety heat.

“Que veux tu mon grand?” his voice comes out hoarser than he expected, and the cook revels in Zoro’s nearly predatory gaze and the hitch in his breath.

(What do you want, big boy?)

“Mes mains?” His strokes get more precise, faster, taking care to rub the head just right.

(My hands?)

Zoro groans, and Sanji’s pink tongue darts out to lick his lips, smiling devilishly as he calls for the marimo’s attention there. “Mes lèvres?” (My lips?)

“Ou...” he trails off and guides the aching, leaking length to his entrance, giving a little teasing wiggle of his hips.

(Or...)

The dark expression on Zoro’s face is absolutely intoxicating. His callused hand grips Sanji’s hip and pushes up, wordlessly encouraging the cook to flip onto his front. Still a little blissed out, Sanji grins and complies and positions himself on his hands and knees. The blonde watches over his shoulder as the swordsman reaches for more lube, lathering a generous amount onto his cock before aligning himself with Sanji again, kneeling at the edge of the bed.

Feeling a little vulnerable, Sanji can’t help teasing his lover. “C’est pour aujourd’hui ou pour demain?”

(Are you gonna do it this century?)

And then Zoro presses into him and oh fuck- the stretch of each thick inch sinking into him is a divine mix of pain and pleasure that steals his breath away. The swordsman's’ grip is bruising on his hips, evidently doing his best to let Sanji get used to him before he loses control.

A few moments later he must hear Sanji’s breath even out a bit and he adjusts against him, finally burying himself to the hilt fully, hands possessively taking hold of his ass cheeks.

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me like this,” Zoro’s words were going to be the death of him, Sanji thinks as his face burns like a furnace. He was sure of it.

“Can I?”

“Ye- mmn, yes go ahead,” Sanji spreads his thighs wider and braces himself on his forearms.

He feels Zoro pulling out slowly, his fingers climbing up and digging into his slender waist, and then he’s being pulled down onto his dick once more as the man starts thrusting into him earnestly. With each slap of the man’s hips against his backside, each steady glide against his prostate, he feels so perfectly full, so good, and his toes curl when Zoro leans over and nuzzles his neck, his grunts and growls of pleasure a sweet melody he’ll never tire of hearing.

“Tu me prends si bien...”

(You take me so well...)

Sanji bites the back of his hand to stifle a moan and keeps throwing his hips powerfully back against Zoro’s rutting. It feels mind-numbingly good to finally let go and be able to use his full force like this, knowing he can give as good as he’ll get.

Zoro doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long if the cook keeps looking and sounding like that.

Fucking hell, what a sight. His lithe, athletic form splitting itself open on each thrust, their bodies working together towards rapture, harmoniously in synch from years of sparring and fighting side by side. The swordsman briefly worries that he won’t be able to spar without getting distracted by the memory of this, of the blonde splayed out under him, back arched sensually and hands straining against the crumpled sheets.

He’s not surprised that Sanji is a vocal lover- he expected it, has fantasised about it on some lonely nights in the crow’s nest. But he didn’t expect that each broken moan and sigh he fucks out of him would bring him closer and closer, fire pooling low in his abdomen and coursing through his veins. He straightens back up and off Sanji’s back for a better angle and oh no, that was a mistake. He groans. He’s once again met with the tantalising sight of his dick burying itself in Sanji’s ass, again and again, a small ripple dancing across the tempting flesh to the rhythm of his punishing pace.

“Fuck”

He slides his right hand around to take hold of Sanji’s dick, and Sanji melts at his touch, head dropping straight against the sheets and moaning his name with abandon at his ministrations.

“Oh-oh god, Zoro, I’m so close-”

Zoro redoubles his efforts, fucking Sanji into the mattress with abandon, chasing both of their releases. Sanji’s muffled mewls of pleasure grow into louder and louder moans and expletives, stuttering with the pounding of their hips and the fist milking his cock.

“Come for me, cook.”

The blonde stills against him, crying out his name as he comes, shuddering and tensing beautifully in the low-lit room. Zoro falls right after him with a shaky moan of his own, time slowing at the feel of Sanji’s glorious, clenching heat around him. Tight, white, hot electricity rolls like waves through his body as he spills, pulsing into his lover.

Craving to stay close to Sanji, Zoro drops and rolls them to their sides, spooning the blonde from behind, arms tight around his waist and nose nuzzling the nape of his neck.

“Je t’aime.” the loving words come out like a sigh.

A dazed, sleepy Sanji hums and clasps his hands on top of Zoro’s, inching himself even closer against him.

After getting its fill of sleepy cuddles, Sanji’s blissed out mind slowly comes back online and the questions that have been gnawing at the back of his mind return in full force. Just where had the stupid swordsman learned to speak French, let alone say things like that?

His cheeks feel warm at the mere memory of it. Now that he thinks about it, it’s even a bit odd- he assumed that Zoro wouldn’t be the type to say such corny, vulgar stuff in bed- if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was straight out of one of his romance novels. It was uncanny that he’d kind of played into exactly the kind of things Sanji was into.

He lets out a small, amused sound at the thought of Zoro reading those kinds of books. Did Zoro even know how to read?

“What’re you thinking, curly?” Zoro asks gruffly, his hands still distractingly caressing his skin from behind him.

“Wondering where you learned that kind of language, marimo. ‘s not the typical vocabulary people get when learning French.”

Sanji turns in his lover’s embrace to face him and waits for an answer, idly thumbing at the scar on his face.

“Oh, that.”

Was Zoro...blushing? “Yes, that.”

“Learned it from those, uh, Harlequin books.”

Sanji’s mouth parts, flabbergasted, but Zoro isn’t done surprising him.

“I thought if you’d read that kind of book multiple times it must’ve meant something, so I kind of...went on a limb earlier.”

Sanji is beet red. “W-wait so you,” he takes a steadying breath. “You've read my Harlequin book?”

“No.”

A sigh of relief.

“I’ve read way more than one.”

Shock.

“From Mihawk’s private library.”

“mIHAWK?!!!” Sanji sputters.

“Yeah, I accidentally let him find out that I’d been learning a bit of French and then next thing I knew he was forcing me to learn it proper ‘n all.”

Sanji feels his chest warming as he starts connecting the dots. “A-and you’d been learning French-”

“-for you, yeah.” he grins.

Unable to stop himself any longer, Sanji closes the distance and captures Zoro’s lips in a tender kiss.

“Imbécile.”

“Ton imbécile.”

They both smile stupidly at each other.

“I can’t believe you. I’m gonna tell everyone you accidentally learned French because of your crippling addiction to boddice rippers.”

“Oi!”

THE END--

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story, it's been so fun and lovely and your reactions make me so happy!!! I like to think that after this Zoro just takes advantage of the fact that only he and Sanji (and Robin) speak French to flirt and say absolutely debauched things in public to embarrass him. But also he uses it to say soft, romantic things when Sanji least expects it. and Sanji makes good on his threat and tells the crew about Zoro's peculiar French syllabus.

#zoro learns french #zoro learns french story #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zosan fic #one piece zosan #smut #minors dni #this is #i can't show my face again #aaaaaaaaa #fgiksdqjkflsdg #how could i have written this #anyways it's over now.#do nOT perceive me

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