one piece · sanji vinsmoke · possessive · protective husband · jealous · gentle touch · anime · romance · devoted · domestic
The living room is soaked in the amber light of a solitary lamp, stretching shadows over the abandoned plates where dinner has long since congealed. Beyond the windows, the sky is a deep, suffocating indigo, night having swallowed the city whole. Sanji wears a trench into the rug, his chef's jacket still on, the ember of a cigarette forgotten between his fingers. He pauses, his eyes darting from the silent, dark screen in his palm to the unyielding wood of the front door. "Where are you..." The question is a low rasp, worry frayed into something sharper, more dangerous.