I Want To Die So I’m Going Home

“Three, two, one,” you glanced down at your rotund, egg-shaped ticking timer as it began to shake as soon as the final number fled softly from your lips. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your mouth as you gazed at the blonde chef as he placed the relinquished cigarette butt within his ashtray; closing the metal lid to keep the cinders away from tainting the blue ocean with its waste.

“Down to the last second,” you muttered again to yourself, shaking your head while opening your journal and jotting down a new number within the pages. You flipped the yellow ribbon back within the page and shut your book; the several ribbons swaying at the bottom of the journal as you wrapped it around in its bound leather strap to place back atop the table.

As ship’s chronicler, you were tasked with notetaking and scribing the comings and goings aboard the Going Merry; a task which you undertook with complete precision and gusto. You had everything down to a fine craft; from documenting strategic battle maneuvers, to how many engagements in combat Zoro completed before his blades needed repair, down to exactly when the ship would need to pull in to resupply the kitchen with fresh ingredients, and the vessel with fresh medical supplies.

Your attention was being currently drawn to cataloguing the kitchen, searching through the prior menus Sanji had completed to determine which items took priority to resupply. As the kitchen was the blonde chef’s domain, you were spending far more time with him currently than the other members of the crew. You adored how passionate he was about food, and reveled in his eagerness to offer flirtations with you. Originally, you paid his flirtations very little mind; drawing conclusions that his words and gestures was built into his character as his occupation moulded him.

However, as his flirtations became more bold with his subtle smirks and playful words directed towards you; you decided it would be amusing to return his gestures, primarily out of boredom in your travels. Immediately, you found entertainment with how flustered you could make him, how his eyes would twinkle widely and his chin would fall to the ground to have his face shrouded by his blonde hair to shield the rising blush from your view.

Gentle touches of his hands brushing against yours as you passed him your journal to look over your kitchen restock notes, leaning yourself towards him over the kitchen benchtop with a playful bite of your lip while you asked him a mundane question, sitting in silence as he lit a cigarette and gawked at you while you read over your notes; crossing your right leg over your left and absent mindedly brushing your toes against his outer thighs with a light smirk.

It was truly a joy to see him flustered. He knew all of the right words and actions to pose towards others in playful advance, but never quite knew how to process the same unbridled gestures when they were reflected back onto him.

As Sanji walked his away from the wooden frame of the Going Merry’s kitchen bay-window, he turned towards you and smiled his beautiful, cuspid smile as you. Your heart began to swell at his attention, prompting you to look up at him half-lidded and cock your head to the side.

“What are you doing in here, beautiful?” he asked, continuing his approach.

“Oh, just cataloguing in the log book while enjoying the view,” you taunted him back with your playfulness, shamelessly raking your eyes over his torso, down his legs and back up to meet his gaze; “the ocean outside the window is nice to look at, too.”

He paused his movement, a small flustered panic behind his eyes before his smile spread further to his face, “You like what you see, then?” He gestured his hand over his body and arched his eyebrow upwards in question. He was wearing his blue and white-striped shirt with his black tie clasped firmly around his neck; sleeves fastened down at his wrists, secured by black buttoned cuff-links.

Your smirk drew into a broad smile as he continued to step closer to you, you confirming: “yes, chef.”

He allowed a large laugh to escape his parted lips, shaking his head at your brazen sanction.

“You hungry?” he asked once his laughter teetered off.

“Barely,” you shrugged, rising to your feet from your place sitting above deck, “but if it means spending more time with you, I’ll accompany you here the kitchen and aid your preparation for-,” you paused, reopening your journal and skimming it’s pages before locating the correct passage; “-Luffy’s second afternoon tea before dinner?”

He again chuckled at you, beginning to roll up his sleeves by unbuttoning his cuffs; “alright then, come and help me. Keep me company.”

You smiled again at him before reaching down towards the table and retrieving your egg-shaped timer from atop the wooden surface and holding it firmly within your hands. Sanji furrowed his brows, looking at the timer in your hands; “what’s with the timer?”

“Oh,” you shrugged, patting him on the shoulder as you moved past him, “nothing that should concern you.” He cocked his head up at the comment, intrigued by your nonchalant comment. You placed the object back down beside your journal, fixed to remain in its non-ticking nor shaking state for the interim as you readied yourself to begin aiding Sanji with the formulation of the meals.

“Okay then, let’s get started,” he began after rinsing his hands thoroughly, turning to his work station and bringing out several ingredients to ready preparation for Luffy’s snack; a two course meal with several sweet and savoury elements that were not too difficult to execute. You began to lather your hands with soap to wash them before you made your way to aid Sanji with food preparation.

While your back was turned and your egg timer and journal were left unattended; Sanji felt he had no choice but to peruse through the pages, finding your latest entry with the yellow ribbon: the colour he knew represented his entries for your chronicler-duties. Your journal was by no means taboo nor out of bounds for any members of the crew, but as Sanji searched through the pages; he was secretly hoping to find some semblance of minor infatuation towards him.

You both flirted with each other incessantly and constantly aboard the ship, and while travelling from port to port. Sanji couldn’t help but to be wooed by your words and actions, hoping that what began as entertainment from boredom grew as much for you as it did for him; hopefully fanning the flames of a small crush on your crewman into potentially developing into a deeper relationship.

You placed an apron over your head and secured the strap around your waist to stop any food items from falling to your clothes accidentally as he watched you over his shoulder; before hunching back over to find anything of the romantic nature between the pages.

He skimmed over his routine, noting several lines of ingredients he neglected to inform you in need of resupply already added to the journal. He sighed, contented and relieved to see you were effortlessly able to pick up on his subtle substitutions he used to cover the need for the missing ones; grinning at the knowledge of how attuned you were to his actions and efforts as chef aboard the vessel. In his daily schedule, he noticed several small crosses flurrying throughout his comings and goings; numbers written next to each cross.

He furrowed his brows and continued skimming over the pages, passing now onto the green-ribbon section: Zoro’s routine, noting his schedule had no crosses nor numbers. He deepened his frown and looked to the orange, red and blue ribbons for Nami, Luffy and Usopp’s schedules and noticed no crosses on their schedules either. Was this the answer he was looking for? He needed to know, and he needed to know, now.

“Hey, love?” Sanji spoke up, alerting you of his attention. You creased your brows at him, noting he had opened your log-journal and was reading his pages; “what are all these marks?”

Wiping your hands on a hanging blue and white kitchen towel, you turned to approach him; leaning your elbow on his shoulder as he turned his body into you, keeping his sights held to the pages of his schedule. You tilted your head towards your notation and narrowed your eyes before turning away from the pages to look at the blonde chef to your side.

“Those are your cigarette breaks, Sanji,” you smiled at him, reaching up to move his blonde hair away from shielding his eyes from you, “I’ve timed them.”

You turned away from him towards the kitchen counter and began sorting through the stock and comprising them into an order of need: items that needed to be cooked and items that only required assembly.

Sanji turned his eyes back to the page and creased his brows at the notes, looking over and acknowledging truly how many times he sought out the nicotine hit within his day to day activities. Although he didn’t manage to secure what he was hoping for, he remained perplexed by the sheer number and time throughout the day he received his dose of nicotine; almost angry at himself for the total amount.

“I have that many?” he asked, rethreading the ribbon back into the pages and putting the journal back atop the counter next to the egg timer.

“That you do, chef,” you nodded, continuing to sort out the piles of ingredients and readying a knife to begin peeling. Sanji hummed, looking over at you as you began peeling fruit with the edge of your knife. He emptied his pockets, placing his tobacco pouch, ash tray and lighter next to your journal before equipping himself with an apron to join next to you.

You both continued to prepare Luffy’s second afternoon snack together, laughing at something one another said and flirtatiously advancing each other with nothing more than a gentle graze of a shoulder or a brush of a fingertip as you continued working with one another. Once you had completed the task, Sanji removed his apron and began reaching toward his tobacco pouch and ash tray. A sly and mischievous look fell over your features.

“Can I ask you a question, chef?” you asked in a slight hint of mischief in your tone, prompting him to halt his retrieval of the pouch for a moment. You removed your apron and hooked it over a brass kitchen rail.

“Anything for you, love,” he smirked at you, turning around to face you and scrunching up his nose playfully. You tilted your head, walking closer to him and gazing up into his eyes.

“What is it about cigarettes that have such a hold over you?” you asked him curiously, “obviously it is the nicotine addiction, but is there more to it than just that?”

Sanji broke his sights away from you and looked off to the ceiling in thought with a small hum.

“You know,” he began with a nod, turning his eyes back down to meet your gaze, “I hadn’t given it much thought until now, truthfully. Maybe the rush? Taking a moment to myself? Could just be the chemical endorphins or the adrenaline, really.”

You nodded and downturned your lips in thought with a shrug. Sanji smirked at you, half-lidding his eyes mischievously before asking; “Why? You got a theory?”

“Frankly, I think it’s primarily about the nicotine,” you nodded, a wince of a smile falling to your face, “you should really think about breaking the habit, it’ll shorten your life and ruin your palate in the long run.”

You flicked your index finger over his chin playfully, a flirtatious grin rising again to your lips; “gotta keep that talented tongue in peak shape for when we get to the All-Blue. Can’t have everything tasting like ash now, can we?”

A small pink hue rose to his cheeks as you allowed a small giggle to escape your lips. You turned away from him to collect your journal, revelling at how flustered you made the flirtatious chef.

“You make a fine point, beautiful,” he broke his face back into a smile, “how do you suggest I get my fix? Save my palate,” he added with a small chuckle.  

You halted your step and quirked your head to the side before turning back to face him again.

“Let’s look at natural remedies,” you pondered, looking upwards at the ceiling, a list forming in your mind; “for adrenaline, why not spar with Zoro? He’d likely appreciate the amount of practice he could get in.”

Sanji hummed, stepping his body closer to you, “doesn’t really serve the endorphin release now, does it, love?”

You giggled in response, again looking towards the chef in thought, “you could go for a quick dip in the ocean? Breath control and adrenaline with that one.”

“And strip off my clothes multiple times a day?” he shook his head with a large grin forming, “I hardly see that as a helpful alternative. Again, it misses the endorphin release and doesn’t meet the accessibility criteria.”

You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips in thought. He chuckled again, turning back to face the table to retrieve his tobacco pouch and lighter, beginning to assemble a cigarette; rolling the tobacco within wafer-thin paper and adding a thin filter port to the end of it. He leant against the table, hips aligning with the height as he reclined back into it. As he brought the filter end to his lips, a stroke of genius struck you. He rose his lighter towards his lips and made to cradle the flame to ignite the end, halting at your next words.

“Kiss me,” you uttered softly with your head swaying as you held a small shyness to your voice, a tone Sanji almost missed. His eyes widened, mouth falling slightly ajar as his cigarette clung to his bottom lip.

“What was that-?” he asked in an utterance slightly more elevated than your own. You looked up at him with a small playful grin as you took your bottom lip once again within your teeth to bite it.

“Breath control,” you said more confidently, beginning to step closer towards him, “adrenaline release,” you raked your eyes over his body before settling on holding his eyes firm to you, “endorphin rush? I’d say a simple kiss would meet the criteria.”

His breath hitched within his throat at the suggestion, prompting him to reach up and remove the cigarette from between his lips and place it on the table behind him.

“You’re saying I can kiss you-,” he confirmed with a small hint of both delight and apprehension, “-for as long as I want?”

You giggled, reaching past him to retrieve your egg timer, “I’ll allow you to kiss me for as long as you need to.”

Sanji quirked his head at your actions, widening his eyes at the egg timer in your hands before a small chuckle fell from his lips. You stepped within his personal proximity after searching his eyes for any apprehension to do so. Meeting none, you settled comfortably in the space between his legs as he remained reclined against the table.

“And judging from your routine: with your mornings, you take about two minutes per cigarette,” you nod your head, rolling the timer within your hands, “your afternoon ones are down to a solid three and a half to four,” he nodded, taking your wrists within his hands and looking down still at the timer, “your before dinner cigarette is about one and a half, because you’re desperate at that stage,” he snickered at your comment, you giggling again in tow.

“And my after dinner one?” he asked you in a breathy, almost frantic voice, “surely I take my time with that one-.”

“-The after dinner one, you usually take around three,” you cut him off with a small giggle, “but your before bed one,” you nudged your nose under his chin to bring his gaze up to meet you once more, “that’s where you take your time with a solid five,” you whispered suggestively close to his jaw.

A small whined-groan escaped from him as he began to chase your face to seek to capture your lips in a kiss, meeting only the tips of your fingers pressed against his lips in response. He furrowed his brows and flittered his eyes down towards your hand and back to gazing intensely into your eyes.

“Hold on, big boy,” you warned him, scrunching up your nose playfully, “I have to set the timer first, or it’s all for naught.”

He nudged your hand away with his chin and a small growl escaping his lips in displeasure at your apprehension. You chuckled at his eagerness, allowing your hand to fall onto his cheek in a gentle caress.

“Surely not for the first one,” he commented hoarsely, desperately as he began reaching down to take the timer from your hands; only to be met with your hands closing over the egg-timer and holding it firmer, “just a taste-.”

“-It’s part of the fun,” you smile at him, floating your gaze over his face; falling on his lips before rising up again to meet with his eyes, “otherwise it won’t work and you’ll be back to square one."

He hummed in response, almost in a low whine as he pressed his forehead against you and grazing his hands down your ribcage to settle against your hips; “and what do you get out of aiding me with my fix?”

“I get the knowledge,” you whisper against his jaw, grazing your lips along his skin slowly, “that I’m the one bringing the rush to you, Sanji. I’m the one making you feel good.”

“Set the timer,” he growled firmly, eyes darkening with his pupils blown out and intense with desire, “four minutes.”

“Oui, chef,” you whispered with a small giggle in anxious anticipation, pulling your lips away from his jaw and turning towards your egg timer; winding it to the appropriate duration.

“Okay Sanji, the time starts: n-,” your words are halted by his the soft but intense collision of Sanji’s lips overzealously engaging in entanglement against your own. You squealed slightly at the immediacy of his reaction, your eyes wide as you stared at his closed eyes as his brows creased in intensity with your cheeks held firmly within his hands.

You reached slowly behind him to place the timer down on the table and raked your hands over his back and slid your fingertips against his flesh and holding his hips firmly while closing your eyes. You shifted your lips against his, opening them to deepen the kiss and allow him to glide his tongue behind your entrance to dance with your tongue. You gasped as soon as the contact was made, feeling a sharp piece of metal beneath the muscle, attached firmly to his frenulum. A piercing? Sanji has a tongue piercing?

He smiled into the kiss, feeling your shock as you brushed your tongue with his. He retracted the muscle from your mouth and began to place rougher kisses, assaulting your lips while raking his fingers through your hair and cradle your head further against his own. He rotated his head to continue the deep and rough engagement, prompting a whimper-like moan to fall from your lips in response.

As he remained reclined against the table, you wavered in your mind how much more adrenaline you could spike into his bloodstream to elevate his heartbeat further. Deciding to not withhold your ministrations; you pulled yourself further against his hips and hooked your right leg over his left and guide his left hand from your hair to wrap around your thigh. A groan fell from his lips as he reclined against the table further, unbreaking the kiss from your lips as he eagerly began to support your weight against him with fervour.

He pulled his other hand from your hair as you laced your hands behind his neck to hold him further into yourself. Just as you tilted your head and made to rake your fingers into his hair while he reached down to grip the back of your other thigh to hoist you up against himself fully; the egg-timer began to rattle and shake, alerting you the duration of the kiss was to be drawn to a close.

The low groan released from Sanji’s lips followed by a whimper as you began to pull yourself away from him was as delicious as the meals he would readily present to you, filling you completely with his unbridled need being absolutely met by your body.

“Please-,” he cried his protestation and need for you softly as you made to break from his lips, “please I need more.”

You smiled while he chased you with his lips as you pulled away from him, unlacing your leg from circling his hip and pulled your arms around his shoulders. You pressed your hand to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid pace pummelling harshly at his breastbone, pushing him away with a gentle but firm touch.

“You can have more,” you cooed at him, looking down through your eyelashes to see his desperation on full display over his face; his breath unevenly falling from his mouth, “in an hour and twenty minutes, before dinner.”

“For how long, then?” He gasped, moving his hands from your hips to lace his fingertips within your own, “surely not just for one and a half minutes.”

You giggled at him, looking at the beautiful picture you had painted on the man of a canvas before you: his eyes blown out with lust and desire, his heart beating with the rapidity of an over-excited puppy anticipating its first treat, his lips bruised from the prior collision against your own.

“You are out of breath,” you nodded to him, gesturing to his lips with your chin, “you have a spike of adrenaline, gathered by how rapid your heart was beating just now,” you rubbed your thumb to circle over his own, “and hopefully the kiss gave you as much of a rush of endorphins as it did me,” you giggled with a nod, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He nodded, looking down at the ground with a small smile tugging at his slightly swollen lips.

“Thank you for helping me with breaking my addiction, and,” he murmured, bringing your hands upwards to brush his lips against every digit; paying them all as much attention as the other with his lips, breaking only to utter; “for helping me restore my palate. I’m going to look forward to receiving my next hit from you.”

You felt a small rush of butterflies falling over your chest as he bore a wide grin against your knuckles.

“Okay, chef,” you said, releasing your hands from his and bringing your right hand up to caress his cheek, brushing your thumb over his lips to tenderly sooth them, “let’s go bring the captain his second afternoon tea.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” he groaned, pressing a small and playful kiss against the pad of your thumb, prompting a small whimper to fall from your own lips this time; a smirk readily rising to his cheeks as he took the balled piercing from beneath his tongue and twirled it against his teeth absent mindedly.

“Hey Doc,” the soft growl in Wire’s tone had an edge to it, a warning felt in his dangerous aura, “You gotta stay awake. We're nearly there, hon. Stay with me.”

The grogginess you felt masked the pain from the spear protruding from your thigh. Your life escence pooled from the wound, the stain dripping down your leg and onto Wire’s stomach as he cradled you into his chest. Each slow blink grew heavier and heavier, the frequency between them coming closer as unconsciousness called to you.

“Doc! Hey, Doc!” Wire jolted you in his arms, forcing your eyes open in shock to his ferocity, “Doc, I need you. Stay awake, damn it!” You offer him a fluttery smile, your lashes batting up at him as his expression contorted in fear.

“Keep-... Keep the pressure on it,” you managed to stutter, your teeth chattering through each syllable as you spoke. “Don't take it-... Don't take it out. Leave it in u-until the bleeding stop-...” Eyes rolling back into your skull, you never finished your instructions to the larger commander. He cursed beneath his breath, sprinting towards the Victoria Punk where the remainder of the crew were waiting for you.

This was not your fault, nor was it Wire’s. You both thought yourselves to be safe: both dressed in loose civilian attire away from your usual garb. Compliments were given to both you and your older commander, praise that would make even the most hardened pirate blush.

You were both seeming to be the least conspicuous and recognisable of the amassment of crew. Your reputations and bounties were both high, but away from your regular clothes, your vacant and stripped-back appearance was the perfect disguise.

Unfortunately, this base had someone you thought had long since forgotten your face. A person from a past you attempted to keep hidden, trapped beneath lock and key in the chest kept in your mind's eye. The spear came out of nowhere, impaling you against the floor and successfully rendering you immobile.

While pinned stationary, the only warning you gave was a choked gasp, Wire turned and immediately sprung into action. Trident aimed back in arms, his motions struck true: claiming the life of the attacker immediately. Usually one to extend the pain, Wire’s instinct to protect came before anything else.

“Doc,” his whisper hissed through his teeth, “Honey, what was that? Who was that?” You were struck in shock, looking down to the spear leaving a welt in the ground; a familiar engraving on the wood having your eyes scrunch tightly shut.

“Wire, just-,” you started, halting when Wire dropped to his knees and hovered his hands over the spear.

“-Doc, you know how to fight. What the fuck is this?” he pointed to the spear, the pain of the sting leaving you and dulling the longer you remained stationary. “Explain, now.”

You sigh, lip beginning to tremble as his eyes finally gaze up to join with yours. Noticing the quiver in your lip, the pooling in your eyes, his demeanor immediately changed.

“Oh, honey,” he gasped, rising to a soft crouch and cradling your cheeks in his palms. A small tear managed to spill from your waterline and trickle down your cheek. “Talk me through what to do. Tell me how to help you.” Closing your eyes, you lean into his touch and take a moment to calm yourself within his palms.

“Break the spearhead at the neck,” you informed him, “And keep the fucking thing in until I get back to the sh-...” You fell forward, your forhead brushing with the commander in front of you as your eyelids drooped.

“...Fucking coward,” you huffed out a soft laugh, floating your eyes to the injury. Gazing down at the spear, you nod against Wire's head with a sarcastic smile on your face.

“Poisoned. They used the poisoned one.”

Finally reaching the ship, your mission long since forgotten, Wire used his great height to his advantage in propelling himself along the top deck. Several crew members attempted to stop him, Bubblegum immediately shrieking and running before Wire to open every door towards your office.

The captain and the lingering two commanders trailed behind Wire, Killer halting as he bore his eyes down at the ground. A trail of bright red spattered over the deck, his piercing blue orbs glaring at it as his lips curled back. Clicking his fingers, he gestured to the nearest crewmember and gestured to the closest mop and bucket before trailing behind Heat and Captain Kid.

Once below deck, Wire set you down on your medical bay and immediately began readying gauze to replace the linen satchel you used to make a basic pressure aid. You mentioned about not making a tourniquet, nothing to aggravate the complications of the wound. Heat was immediately through the doors next, the Fire-Breather gazing through hollowed eyes at the injury first before running immediately to your desk.

“What,” a rumbling growl barked, “the fuck,” your captain ducked beneath the threshold of your office door, “happened?” Wire couldn't speak, his own manic state prohibiting him from thinking anything other than cutting away your pants with your scissors and placing the scraps in a damp pile beside you. Nothing was to pull him away from his task, keeping pressure on the wound while he cleaned you up best hr could.

“Wire,” Captain Kid roared, a jolt felt deep within his chest as he fell away from his transfixed attention. Turning to Kid, Wire managed to bark back at the captain.

“We were recognised,” he called over his shoulder, “Someone knew Doc.” He peeled away the final fabric, your doll-like state limply moving with each push and pull from the taller man.

Eyelids fluttering, slipping between consciousness and slumber, you peeled your eyes open enough to gaze at Killer as he entered the room. Offering him a weak smile, you attempted to move your lips to speak. Killer raised his hand to hush you, wordlessly telling you to save your strength for something more intentional than a greeting.

“The fuck recognised Doc?” Kid growled, “Doc's been with us for ages, changed their look and everything from that stuffy shit they wore before.” Kid bullied his way to Wire's side, shoving his hands away from the spear and assuring his one good hand be weighty enough to force the wound shut.

“I know as much about it as you, Cap,” Wire stuttered, his panic tangible in his shaken hands. “One of the first things Doc said about it was they were cowards for using poison.”

“Fuck,” Heat finally added, carding through his lengthy pale hair as he searched through the medical and personal journals in your desk for any information. Finally stumbling across a filagree design on one of the pages, he shook his head and clapped the book shut. “There's nothing in here. I don't know what to do. Doc just writes about weaponry in the journal, but nothing about poison.”

“What do I have to do about the spear? What does it say, Heat?” Wire yelled at the scarred commander, his Glasgow smile grimacing at the tone. Looking back to the desk at the open pages, Heat shakes his head and looks back at Kid.

“Doc needs a surgeon,” he uttered darkly, placing the journal back on the desk beside him, “Closest one is the marine base, next up is Trafalgar. Make a choice.”

The captain never tore his eyes away from your thigh, his deep frown growing in size the longer he lingered on the thought. The marines wouldn't help, they'd likely kill you and anyone else that entered on behalf of you. Trafalgar was days away, and there was no way wyou could make it. He didn't know how to treat this injury himself, that's what he had you for.

Considering there was poison in your leg, likely spreading to your blood at this point, he clamped his eyes shut and finally looked up to your face. Eyes open and glazed, you offered him a soft smile.

“What do I do, Doc?” he drew his metal hand up to caress your cheek, “What do I do?” You dart your eyes between his while slowly blinking in your daze.

“Under my bed,” you whispered, your vocal fry straining as the pain lingered, “Antidote.”

Killer was already out the door as soon as you stated ‘under your bed,’ refusing to daudle as you lay there bleeding out. Kid nodded to you, the cool of the metal palm soothing your scorching flesh. Beads of sweat flooded your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead as you bit back the ache.

“And the fucking spear?” Kid laughed down at you, “What you wanna do about that?” You snickered weakly, trying to best phrase how to proceed next.

Ideally, you would want to: remove the object, clean and sterilize the area, remove any necrotic flesh, provide antiseptic, antiinflamitries and suture it back up. Unfortunately, none of the crew were you; and you were in no position to do it yourself. Before you even had a moment to speak, Heat was at your side, pushing past Wire and glaring up at your captain.

You lazily lolled your eyes to the side of the desk, noticing the page Heat opened and let out a preemptive whimper in preparation. Heat looked down at you, watching your brows raise in a triangular peak in the center of your forehead as you nod to him.

“Antidote,” you hissed out, gulping while closing your eyes tightly shut, “And rum.” Heat nodded, immediately walking to your desk and almost instinctively pulling the leaver to reveal your secret stash of rum. Kid gasped out a laugh, smiling playfully down at you.

“Little shit,” he affectionately chastised you, “Where the fuck was that when I asked for it last week?” You choked through a soft laugh in response while biting back the pain.

“In my fuckin’ desk, hiding from you.” He laughed at you before his lips curled into a soft pout. Leaning forward, he kept the pressure against your wound as he pressed his forehead against your own. Clamping his eyes shut and grinding his teeth, he shared your breath with you in a bid to draw you closer.

“When you live through this, Doc,” Kid hissed before nuzzling his head against yours, “I'll-.”

“-Kill me?” you chirp playfully up at him, prompting him to open his eyes and glare down at you. The pain was in every follicle of your face, even in the radiance of that grin you wore so much.

“No, Sunshine,” he whispered, no humour in his tone aside from his melancholy smile, “No.” He learnt up, pressing his painted lips against your forehead while inhaling a sharp breath through his pointed nose. “I'll give you that raise you've been asking for. I swear to you, Sunshine.”

Pulling away from your face, he gazed down at you with hardened resolve and absolute unwavering compassion. Darting your eyes between his two, you lazily draw back your lips to a lazy smile.

“You know, Cap,” you utter whimsically, “From a distance, your eyes look almost orange.” Reaching up your hand, you gently take his cheek in your palm. Your weak grasp feels foreign on his hands, your usual steely demeanor slipping away, “But up close?” you whisper intimately, his breath catching in his throat, “You've got a band of gold in the middle.”

Kid attempted to keep his composure, staying strong in front of his commanders, and you, as you speak in nonsense. Your eyes held this foreign affection that he had yet to truly witness. Every part of your usual abrasive attitude diminished, your soul raw in your expression as you stared up at your captain.

“D-Doc-...” he gasped, Wire watching the interaction between the two of you and choking on his breath. Heat's eyes never left your face, waiting for the exact moment you give him that nod of approval to inact your unspoken agreement.

Stampeding through the threshold of the door tumbled Killer, each movement intentional and deliberate while weighty and desperate. Shoulders arched and chest puffed, he slid to your side and uncorked a vial of viscous liquid.

“Here you go, baby,” he leaned forward, taking your neck beneath his hands and cradling you up to steady you, “Easy does it now.” The vial ridge was placed at your lip, your eyes not leaving your captain's as you swallowed the contents of the vial. Barely tasting the liquid, the vial was replaced by the lip of a rum bottle to numb the pain and drown the pain you were about to endure.

As soon as the amber liquid hit your chest and trickled down your throat, Heat removed the spear from your thigh with his larger hands. A spurt of liquid pooled in your Captain's palm the moment he did as such, the scream you let up caught in the rum bottle. Killer leaned forward, placing his helmet covered lips against your temple and holding you against him. In your panicked state, you barely registed the next phase to Heat's agreement.

Slapping the captain's wrist away from your thigh, Heat placed his lips over your wound. Engulfing the area completely, Heat ignited his gullet and immediately seared the wound shut with the intensity of his flaming breath.

The sizzle of flesh lingered in the air, the scent of caurterizing skin and burnt hair tainting the burn of liquor in your throat. Your screams were stifled in your mouth as you grit your teeth, the widening of your eyes and glaring at that golden band within your captain's eyes.

He had no choice but to look down at you as Heat scorched your flesh. Heat's lips pressed a heart-shaped mark into your skin, the guilt of marking you with his ability ate at him from the moment he read the passage on cleaning and sealing wounds. Manuevering your thigh with ease, he released the topside of your skin and immediately pressed his lips to the underside of your leg.

Another roar of flickered flame ignited in his chest, this time your back arched and head lulled in Killer’s arms. Your vision went white, the lingering ache of pain and swell of poison leaving you as you fell into unconciousness. Four voices painted the air with their plea, your ears ringing with their unique cadence.

“Doc, I know it hurts. Forgive me, please.”

“I should've protected you, Honey.”

“Baby, hold on. Just hold on a minute longer.”

“...Don't. Don't, Sunshine. Stay with me now.”

Hours slipped into days before you managed to rise from your slumber. That first taste of air expanded your lungs felt fresher, cleaner, than what you felt in years. The weight of your past had managed to catch up with you, the cost being higher than the one you were ready to pay with such hastiness.

As you looked to your bedside, the signature purple jagged locks of your sensitive crewmate lay unravelled beside you. Bubblegum’s face burried itself against the plush duvet, both his hands lay cradling your own as you roused with a sucked gasp.

Where were the commanders? Where was the captain? Why are these bedsheets so comfortable? Questions you would not be plagued with for much longer.

Door sliding open, the towering figure of Wire entered your chambers and slipped to your side. His eyes met with yours just as his breath caught in his throat. His great strides close the distance between you as he kneels by your head. Forehead first brushing with your mattress, he slowly and silently raises his gaze up at you through his eyelashes. Rounded eyes: wide, guilty, and pleading at you.

Before he had a chance to utter his confession and explain his emotion verbally, you silenced him with a look.

“I'm so sorry, Wire,” you whisper beneath your breath in an attempt to not wake Bubblegum. “I hesitated. I should've reacted faster-.”

“No, honey. No,” he whispered, shaking his head and rising to stoop over your bed. “You don't owe me anything you're not willing to give. It's not my place to reveal you, just as it's not yours to interrogate me.” You sigh out, a flood of emotion washing your heart in waves. Each passing wave has Wire lean forward, his lips casting over your forehead and holding you firmly beneath his kiss.

“We love you, Doc,” he whispered softly, “Doesn't matter who you were, only who you are now.” You scrunch your eyes shut as you bite-back your emotion. The wound, the familiar unfriendly face, the sting of poison still flooding through your veins, everything spilled over the rim of your emotions. Each moment replayed in echoes, Wires arms and desperation reminding you of his compassion.

“I'm ready,” you whisper, feeling him peel away his lips from your head. He searches your eyes for meaning, your own orbs darting between his.

“But first,” you added, your smile returning to your lips as you teased him with it, “Send me Heat. He's likely to be feeling like absolute horse shit about the whole thing. I can't bare to have him beat himself up about it.”

“As you wish,” he smiled at you, releasing you from his grip and pulling himself away, “I'll bring you your Fire-Breather, honey.” Giving you one more playful wink, the larger man exited your bedside and sauntered down the hall to do as you asked. Bringing you the man who used his abilities to cleanse you from your ailment as he lay in the mess hall with the captain, finding reprive from their guilt at the bottom of their rum bottles.

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.” 

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.” 

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier. 

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances. 

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship. 

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair. 

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship. 

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral. 

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was. 

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain. 

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him. 

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists. 

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain. 

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder. 

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed. 

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher. 

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him. 

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature. 

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue. 

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets. 

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head. 

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked. 

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over. 

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper. 

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face. 

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. 

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

“Hey Doc?” a smooth, polite voice called to you from your place sitting on the beach alongside the small medic of the straw-hat crew. You turned to look up at the large polar-bear mink, giving him a soft smile as he politely rang his hands in front of him. 

“Yeah, Bepo?” you asked him in response, patting the ground beside you and the hatted reindeer, “What’s on your mind, honey?” He eagerly sat down beside you in a large thump, his radiating body heat bringing you comfort on the sandy shore. 

“I-... uh-... I was just wondering,” he scratched the scruff of his neck with his large paw, “What is it like being the medic of the Kid Pirates?” Two forms immediately slump down beside the three of you. The red-headed orca man and his hat-wearing counterpart joining in on your conversation. 

“I was curious about that too, Doc,” Shachi confessed, giving your shoulder a playful pat and chuckling, “Your crew are really unhinged. We’ve all been placing bets that it’s mainly STDs and weird intimacy-induced injuries, weren't we Peng?” You rolled your eyes at the remark, looking to the redhead and his companion.

“Is that right?” you offered him a sarcastic response, looking over to Chopper and beckoning him closer to you. “There are children present, I hope you know. Where’s your manners?” A rosy blush immediately grew over Shachi’s cheeks and flushed his embarrassment over his features. 

“Sorry, Doc,” Penguin offered for his crewmate, shaking his head with a soft smirk, “Doesn’t make us any less curious, though. What’s it like?” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose and rubbing your waterline with your index finger and thumb. 

You looked over at your crewmates, noticing Kid and Killer were missing from the beach-front meeting space and narrowed your eyes at where they should’ve been. 

“Honestly, Heart-Pirates, and sweet Chopper,” you cooed down at him and scrunch your nose in glee, “It has been like nothing I could’ve ever dreamed of. Sure, I get my fair share of injuries that could’ve been prevented. A couple of itches that should’ve been avoided if they wore armor into the variety of battlefields - if you catch my meaning.” You shot Shachi and Penguin a knowing look before looking down at Chopper.

“Truly,” you sighed, looking at the dance of lights in the moonlit sky, “I couldn't ask for anything more. I love those weirdos, and I am one myself.” You noted, looking at Bepo and offering him a kind glance, “And they’re not as stupid as you think they are. Give them more credit, please.”

“Ah, I see,” Bepo nodded along at your confession, looking over at his two crewmates who offered you sheepish and apologetic smiles in response. Shachi, Penguin, Bepo, Chopper and you all enjoyed sitting in a very rare silence together, the warmth radiating off the warm sand and having you breathe in a calm tuft of salty air. 

As you sat and enjoyed the serenade of sweet bugsong, that silence was interrupted by a heavy trudge of bootheels grinding in the coarse sand. You recognised that trek, looking up into the scarred chest of Massacre Soldier Killer as he inserted himself between Bepo and you, lifting his shirt and revealing his wide chest to the five of you.

“These look even to you?” He asked behind his mask, prompting all five of you to look up at him and the other four of your company immediately recoiled at what they were witnessing. Killer was freshly adorning ball barred piercings thrust through the tips of his nipples, the indents bleeding and beginning to crust over with a soft sheen of puss.

“Kil...” you groaned, shaking your head and sighing, “...I thought we learnt the last time our Captain attempted to gift the crew with piercings. Remember what happened with Quincy’s labret and Heat’s-... uh-...” you looked down at the whimsical and innocent eyes of the reindeer before turning back to Killer, “...ladder.” 

“Said he cleaned ‘em this time,” Killer shrugged, gesturing for you to take a closer look at the freshly pierced buds on his chest, “It’s been a week. Needed some fresh eyes to give an honest opinion.” You shook your head, leaning in closer and looking at his pink puckered flesh and groaned. 

“They look,” you began sighing and rolling your eyes, “Fucking infected, Kil?” Snickers from Shachi and Penguin didn’t go unnoticed, and you shot them a sneer before shooting the reindeer an apologetic glance. 

Standing from your seated position beside the other crew, you gave them a gentle nod to excuse yourself and dragged Killer by his ear towards the Victoria Punk’s infirmary. You muttered under your breath, seething with the fumes of fury with each step you took towards your office doors. 

“Here I thought I was gettin’ a fucking break,” you grumbled, shoving Killer into your office and slamming the door shut behind you. “But no,” you uttered sarcastically with a dance of your head, “No, you had to keep me in the dark about this, didn’t you?” You open the drawer and thrust your hands aggressively into the box and get two rubber gloves and angrily thrust them over your wrists. 

Your mutters and frustration never ceased, your nose beginning to sniff and your anger teetered on sorrow the longer you looked for the variety of items to clean up the infection. Saline solution, antiseptic ointment, numbing balm to remove the pus-surrounded bars, cotton balls and gauze strips. 

Shoulders shaking, you rubbed your eyes with your forearm to calm the sting of fresh tears from falling. Thoughts of what the Heart-Pirates would be saying about you behind your back, your medical degree being the laughing stock of your peers. Your eyes began to swell as you continued choking back your sobs of rage. 

“Am I a fucking joke to you all?” you whisper, biting your lip and readying your treatment tray with the items you desired. “All I do is fix stupid mistakes and coddle you lot when you’re hurt. I’m a disgrace to my training, a laughing stock to my field, and a fucking idiot for joining this crew in the first place. I just want a damn break-.” 

Before you could continue your monologue of degradation, two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind and squeezed you into his broad chest. You immediately draw your hands up to Killer’s forearms and quiver your lip to stifle your sobs further. He leaned down into your cheek with his mask brushing your face.

“You are none of those things,” he whispered in his calm, soothing voice, “And I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark about Cap’n’s latest project. Thought it wouldn’t happen again, honestly.” You sniffled, leaning your head into his mask and clenching your eyes tightly shut. 

He inhaled deeply and slowly, prompting you to do the same, before you both exhaled together. His arms held so much comfort within the contours of his muscles, him being often the crewmate everyone sought out for consolation for their sorrow. After holding you for several moments, you tapped his arm twice to signal for him to release you from his embrace.

“Alright. Shirt off, Kil,” you mumbled softly, attempting to remove the softness you just encountered at the hands of the first-mate, “Let me see what’s going on up close. Can you do that for me?” He nodded, removing his shirt and placing it on the back of your office chair. You usher him over to the surgical bench and gesture for him to sit. 

As you dabbed at his skin, you ignored the flood of somber emotions in your chest and shoved them down. Removing the ball-bar piercings and immediately throwing them in a sterilizing sink, you cleaned the wounds and looked vacantly ahead of you. Dressing the wounds in antiseptic and covering them with two broad, patterned band-aids, you gave your final nod at him and pouted.

“All done,” you sniffed, dropping your shoulders and removing your gloves from your hands. “You can put your shirt back on now, Kil. Go get the Captain so I can do him the kindness of scolding him away from the Heart and Straw-Hat pirate crews.” Turning away from him and running your fingers through your hair as he placed his shirt back on, Killer’s arms rewrapped around your body and turned you in his arms immediately thereafter. 

He cradled your head into his chest, his body heat and steady heart rate causing your emotions to finally flood over. Finally airing your frustrations, you wrap your arms around as much of him as you could as he soothed you against the embroidered jolly roger of his shirt. 

“You wanna stay here for a while?” Killer asked down at you, caressing your hair and smoothing it over, “I can help you color in the patterns you doodle on the bandaids if you want? Keep you company in here until you’re ready to go back to the beach?” You shook your head in his arms, burying your face deeper into his chest and having him hold you for a few moments longer. 

Chuckling down at you, he smiled beneath his mask at how vulnerable you allowed yourself to be in the moment. Continuing to soothe over your hair and rub circles into your back, he offered you some further confessions. 

“You know we love you, right?” his voice whispered down at you, prompting you to look up at him in his arms. His mask was tilted down at you, the soft glow of his icy blue eyes peeking through the holes in his mask. “So much, Doc. We love you so much.” Your lip quivered as you looked up at him, darting your eyes between where you assumed his were. 

“Promise me,” you sniffed, gulping back your sorrow and fixing your eyes up, “If you’re thinking about getting nipple piercings, or any other type of piercing,” you broke yourself away from his grip and huffed, “You’ll come to me for them. I’ll do them properly for you so they don’t end up infected.” 

Killer chuckled, shaking his head and glancing down at his patterned gauze. He huffed a curt hum in approval at the design. 

“Only if you promise me,” he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, angling your face up at him, “You’ll come to me when you’re feeling shit. I’ll reassure you, give you a squeeze, and might cook you something if you want.” You flinch away from his grip, waving him out of your office with your hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” you offer him, cleaning up the cotton balls and throwing your instruments into the sterilizing tray, “When I feel like a whiny baby, I know where my nice, comforting daddy is.” You snicker at your own teasing joke, shaking your head and continuing to tidy up your office. Killer lingers in the door, his tone physically smirking in his own glee. 

“I would gladly be your nice, comforting daddy,” he whispered huskily from the doorframe, “Anytime you need me to be, baby.” You froze in place, your hands stuttering as you halted tidying up. 

Before you had the opportunity to stifle your blush, turn towards Killer, and chastise him for his words, you noticed he was already gone and heading back towards the beach. Groaning, you clapped your palm over your forehead and muffled the shriek from passing through your lips by clamping your mouth tightly shut. 

It’s the look of vague constipation that catches your attention, initially.

Izuku finds you in the library. He finds you in the library, on your third cup of coffee at eleven in the morning, hunched over a book and a pile of highlighters, pens and sticky notes for annotations. You aren’t exactly sure why, you don’t see him outside of class, unless required (Debate). When you do, it quickly devolves into an argument the moment he corrects something unnecessary, and you snap. He does it on purpose—you know he does.

So, when you see forest green hair at the entrance, you just sigh, redirect your attention, and wait for him to find you. Silently hoping you won’t get exiled from the library, again.

You get distracted with what you’re doing, and forget about him entirely.

“Hey.”

You jump.

“Jesus—Izuku, you scared the shit out of me,” you huff with hand over your heart, but then you take in his face—his vaguely constipated face. Why.

He places hands on the long desk and leans forward with painful determination, but doesn’t say anything. He wavers, like when your roommate got her ears pierced and you didn’t notice for a week. You blink. And then, against your better judgement:

“Are you…okay?”

The spell shatters. His face goes red, and Izuku returns to himself. You wish you could say that you’re less confused.

“I—Yes, obviously. I just, um, had a question, but I answered it, so never mind.”

With bending eyebrows, and you faintly point to yourself. “You had a question…for me?”

“Not anymore,” he grins, before peering at the book you’re hunched over like a live grenade. “What’cha reading?”

With a growl, you pull the book away from him. Far, far away from him. “Why do you care.”

“Curious,” he shrugs, but it’s with a smile that hints he’s only talking to piss you off. At least, he stands up, up and away, and where you can’t smell him anymore. Good riddance.

“Tolstoy.”

Izuku hums with a nod, and squints his nose beneath round glasses. “Mm, yeah…he’s a little pedantic. You should try Dostoevsky.”

The highlighter you hold creaks under your fingers.

Your teeth grit into a smile, and you pray you don’t explode—one more citation from the librarian, and you’re banned for the semester. And, thanks to your roommate, you really, really can’t afford to be banned for the semester.

“I don’t like Dostoevsky.”

“Oh,” Izuku makes a face of light disgust, like he caught a whiff of something sour, and then it’s gone. You blink rapidly—angrily. He scoffs, and runs a disbelieving hand over his mouth. “Wow, um. Okay.”

You scowl.

“Why are you still here.”

“Honestly, great question,” Izuku nods, and you thank your lucky stars when his feet start moving. “I will, um, see you in Debate.”

“Looking forward to it,” you grin. It’s much more of a wince, and it’s to his back, so he doesn’t see. Then, under your breath, out of earshot, you mutter: “Loser.”

“Oi—Deku. The hell was that?”

“She pisses me off so much, Kacchan.”

Izuku hates the way he goes storming a few rows over and where he’s supposed to meet his friend. His face is hot, probably a little pink because he’s sweating, sweating from the angry little fire brewing in his belly. He hates you—God, he hates you so much—you’re rude, and dismissive, and need to get off your high horse and understand that you don’t know it all, that you’re not some cosmic architect with the secrets to the universe, that you’re just as human as everyone else at this school.

Izuku swears he isn’t normally like his—he’s a nice guy, really. He helps old ladies across the street, takes bugs outside the apartment instead of stomping them to nothing, fucking recycles—but, there’s something about you specifically that burrows under his skin, and makes it crawl.

He sits down in a stiff wooden chair, and kicks the empty one beside him until it topples. Katsuki snorts.

“Yeah, I know,” he nods, chucking a thumb over his shoulder, “I mean—why the fuck did you roll up on her like that.”

“Oh! Um, I have a plan,” Izuku slams a determined fist into an open palm, and turns to the blond. “But, it needs…workshopping.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “And, your plan is to what? Seduce her from her schoolwork?”

Katsuki says the last half as a joke, but Izuku goes silent. Katsuki looks away from his laptop to glower properly.

“Deadass.”

“It sounds worse when you say it out loud,” Izuku whines, crossing his arms on the table to he can tuck his head in between them.

“The hell am I gonna do with you,” Katsuki sighs. Izuku doesn’t lift his head.

“Put me out to pasture.”

“Tempting,” Katsuki grunts, and when Izuku looks, it seems like he’s mulling over something. His thumb rubs at his bottom lip with furrowed brows, eyes distant and thinking. Until they are no longer, and they snap to his face.

“Come with me.”

katsuki [11:15 am]

Code Green.

short circuit [11:15 am]

FUCK YEAH

eijiro [11:15]

holy shit deadass

okok lock in boys, get in positions

hanta [11:16]

,,,we’re in the same room ,,,,

Katsuki leads him to a private study room.

It’s dark, and Izuku doesn’t think much of it, assuming his friend will handle the lights. Instead, a heavy hand guides him into a chair by his shoulder, an articulated lamp clicks on. It’s blinding.

“Um…hello?”

Katsuki has disappeared into the darkness. Now, it’s just Izuku, and a lamp. Alone.

“Kacchan?”

“So. You like a girl.”

Not alone.

The voice is definitely not Katsuki’s—predictable gruff is replaced with something boyish, something mischievous, a voice Izuku recognizes as…

“Denki? And—wait a minute, I don’t like a girl.”

There’s a clearing of a throat, and Denki tries again.

“So. You love a girl.”

“Can someone turn the lights on?” Izuku presses against the chair to look behind him, but can’t see much, thanks to the blinding lamp. “This is weird.”

“That’s what I said,” Katsuki huffs, and flicks them on. The yellow canned lighting reveals Izuku at the head of a conference table, with Katsuki’s friends all gathered with hands steepled in front of their faces. Izuku knows them well, knows them enough, but not well enough for…whatever this is.

“What is this?”

“So. You love a—”

Hanta slaps Denki upside the head to avoid making everyone suffer for a third time. The electric blond whines.

Eijirō looks to Katsuki for an explanation, and Izuku’s dear childhood friend snorts as he settles in the open chair beside him.

“Apparently, we’re out here seducing academic rivals.”

“For distraction!” Izuku adds, wholly unsure as to why his business must be aired, and why Katsuki’s friends seem so invested. He sees them sometimes—at the big stuff, a few times a year—but couldn’t say any time he’s talked to them one on one. Eijirō, maybe.

But, Izuku finds himself divulging to the friends that are not his friends regardless. For research.

“I was, um,” Izuku fiddles with the hands in his lap, because, yeah, he sounds a little insane when said aloud. “I tried to…girls like forearms, right? So I like, flexed them on the table, and gave her, like, a look, but um, it…didn’t quite…work.”

There’s a shared look between the semi-strangers in the room, possibly an inside joke, a train of thought he didn’t buy a ticket for, something he lacks the context to understand. Eijirō gives a thoughtful hum, before turning to him.

“And, the problem is…what. She doesn’t like you like that?”

“No,” Katsuki chuckles. “The problem is that he’s bad at it.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku hisses. He’s not necessarily wrong, though. And, this—his friends could help, probably, but like—

“We got’chu,” Denki insists with confidence, mouth finally free from Hanta’s clutches. “We’re all very hot guys with an equal amount of pull.”

The room sighs, and something tells Izuku that is not the case.

But, Izuku is desperate. Folding is easy.

“…What would you have me do?”

Denki pushes away from the conference table, rolling in his chair for a moment, before strutting to a whiteboard in the front of the room. He pops the cap of an EXPO marker off with his teeth, writes in a faded yellow that’s almost too light to read, and talks into the plastic laminate.

“You my friend, need to—”

TIP 1 — DENKI’S IDEA — PLAY HOT TO GET. (LOSE A DEBATE.)

“…Hot to Get…” Katsuki mutters, reading what Denki wrote aloud, before shoving his face into palms and pulling. “Who let him go first.”

“Shut—“ Denki taps the whiteboard with the opposite end of his marker, “the fuck up, Kacchan, and let me lay down the law.”

Katsuki bristles. “I will blow your face off. Don’t you fuckin’ call me—”

“With what? Your hands?”

Katsuki grumbles something under his breath that Izuku can’t quite hear, and Eijirō groans to the ceiling.

“Guys.”

“He distracted me,” Denki defends, before turning to Izuku with a glint in his eyes, like he’s the next test subject in the lab. He points at the greenette, marker in hand, “Now. You.”

“Me,” Izuku straightens.

“You will send,” then, Denki turns back to the board, lower body bowing as he rests a forearm to write in slanted and uneven lettering. He speaks as he writes, and that just makes things messier. “M—i—xed si—gnals, right? Hot and Cold, you’re there, and you’re not.”

Izuku frowns, struggling to understand how he would even apply such a vague concept. Denki whirls back to the whiteboard, clumsily writing a 1. smushed in the left corner, before starting a second row below it, this time, labeled properly. 2.

“Are these…do they go in any particular order, or are these just general pointers?”

“Pointers,” Denki huffs over his shoulder, still writing furiously, before he pivots. The back of his marker taps the board again with a soft clink. “Look hot. You, my friend, have got to sell the Izuku Midoriya brand, and right now, this ain’t it.”

Denki forms a circle with the marker in the air in reference to Izuku’s…entire self. He looks down at his green zip up and frowns.

“…What’s wrong with my…brand?”

“Ugh, everything,” Denki scowls like it’s been bothering him for a while, Izuku’s ‘brand,’ then turns back to the board. “Send me your closet.”

“Like…a picture?” Izuku asks, because, he kind of needs his clothes, and that sounds awfully expensive to be taken literally. He looks at Katsuki—not exactly sure what he’s trying to find, and the ash blond, who doesn’t seem to either, just shrugs back.

“You dress like a nerd, Nerd—I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Denki, who is now writing 3. on the board, shouts straight into it in hopes the words ricochet enough for them to hear—they do. “Kat, you’d wear a garbage bag if it was socially acceptable!”

Katsuki snorts, chucking a thumb at Denki’s back. “Dumbass is just mad that I’d look good in a garbage bag.”

“Three!” Denki hollers, turning back to the room now, with a huff that has Hanta snorting. “There will be a moment. A Mo—ment, okay?”

He turns his upper body to put stars around the word ‘moment,’ which is already underlined multiple times, circled, and somehow, bolded. Izuku nods.

“Moment.”

“Yes,” Denki nods, pointing the marker at him, before he motioning wild enough that Izuku worries the marker will going to go flying and hit Kacchan in the head, or something, and then they’ll really have a problem. “You’ll feel it—the heat in the air, the glimmer in her eyes. And then, you attack.”

“I just want to distract her,” Izuku pouts, crossing his arms on the table. “Not…attack.”

“Not attack-attack, like—“

“God, I hope not.”

“Quiet, Kacchan, I’m in the fucking zone,” the crosshairs of the marker redirect to his heckler, who bristles until Eijirō places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Attack as in that’s when you go in. That’s when you seduce.”

Izuku blinks slow.

“But…how do I…seduce?”

“That, my friend,” Denki moves to a different area on the whiteboard, where more words sit, circled and underlined, just like ‘moment,’ “is when your natural instincts come in. Now—”

He pops the cap off the marker again.

“Are you a top or a bottom?”

Is this the moment Denki was talking about?

Where it feel like time could stop and there’s a heat in your eye—is this it?

Izuku didn’t even think you’d agree, if he’s being honest.

The cafe part was Denki’s idea—the study part, his. Denki picked out his outfit, thankfully not too uncomfortable or out of character. (He was a little fearful about getting shoved in skinny jeans, and as great as Denki looks in them, Izuku feels like they may choke his knees.) They worked with what he owned until he was left wearing something a slight league ahead what he normally would, and either you don’t notice, or don’t care. But, that’s—

“Thanks,” you mutter, and take the drink he passes after freezing for a beat too long, eyes flicking back to your textbook.

—That’s something, right?

Despite all the effort he put into this, you wear what you always do, literally—there isn’t much in your closet under than high school mathlete t-shirts and college sweatshirts. He knows, because that’s all he sees you in. Meanwhile, Izuku’s eyes still burn from the twenty minutes it took to put contacts in.

He slides into the horseshoe booth, settling himself a little closer than necessary. Five pm sunlight cuts through the window and into the side of your face, and Izuku wavers, before realizing, no, this is tension, and Denki told him to cut the tension with a bold move. Bold move, um—

Deciding to forgo the recommended yawn, Izuku just stretches his arm along the booth behind your head. You don’t say anything about it.

“We got the topic early, this time,” he adjusts in his seat, returning to the reason you’re both here in the first place. Well. The fake reason.

You hum, nodding the head resting in your hand. “‘Perception and truth are fundamentally distinct’—pretty straight forward.”

“Yeah,” Izuku snorts. “Good luck to the Opposition.”

You pop the cap off a highlighter to run it across the sentence. For some reason, you insist on printing everything—something about a sheet of paper being easier to read, to annotate. But, all Izuku hears is the death of a forest and you struggling. “Why?”

“Because, we obviously have the right answer.”

“It’s a debate,” you huff, looking at him with the intensity of a college professor discussing their field. “There is no right answer.”

Izuku whines in consideration, teetering his head as he watches a mother and daughter cross the street. “Eh. There is, sometimes.”

“Well, I think it’s the opposite.”

“No, you don’t,” Izuku shakes his head, positive that you just said it to spite him. His urge to correct your spite and/or stupidity burns, and then, he has to say something, right? He leans his elbow on the table and speaks through a sardonic but polite smile. “Perception is subjective, and truth is objective—fundamentally, they’re distinct.”

“Fundamentally, you’re a pain in the ass,” you hiss, before fixing your face into something palatable again. “You can argue just as easy that perception is truth, because we understand truth through perception.”

And then, beautifully tacked on, the fin of your argument under your breath: “Dipshit.”

Izuku’s smile cracks.

“Does that not negate the literal definition of truth?”

With a yawn, you pull your phone up to glossed lips. The glare you wear so proud never falters. “Hey Siri—definition of truth.”

Siri bah-leep’s to life, and for some reason, yours is a grown man with an Australian accent.

“Truth is the property of being in accord with fact, reality, or actuality, or fidelity to an original, or to a standard, or ideal.”

“See?” Izuku gestures to the phone with an open hand. “Fact.”

You roll your eyes and set the phone down a little harder than necessary. “Fact is literally—it was a fact that the sun revolved around the earth in the 16th century!”

“Holy shit,” Izuku groans into his hands, completely flabbergasted by your idiocy. “Yes, but we have modern technology, now. Technology, that—“

“That we think is right, but who really knows? Also—get your arm off the back of my seat, you creep.”

“Gladly,” he huffs, and does exactly that.

You end it there, snatching the drink off the table to take a long, sugar-fueled sip. Your lips wrap tight around a plastic straw and your glower never ceases, looking through his eyes and into the back of his skull, and Izuku…Izuku—

What was he going to say?

What was he going to say, because he can’t think of anything other than how pretty those lips would look wrapped around something else, something like his—

IZUKU: 0. YOU: 1.

He hates you.

TIP 2 — EIJIRŌ’S IDEA — LOVE LANGUAGES. (ACT LIKE YOU THINK SHE’S SMART. YOU DON’T.)

“Riddle me this, Midoriya—What’s her love language?”

Izuku groans. What the hell is a love language?

Eijirō is perched at the opposite head of table, the one closest to the whiteboard, tossing a marker in his hand without a second glance. The confusion on Izuku’s face seems to explain everything to the football captain, as he starts to prattle on about something that is definitely not a science.

“‘Kay! So, there’s five, right?” He gestures to the board, to something written in red and done before Izuku’s arrival today. “Words of affirmation, physical touch, receiving gifts, quality time, acts of service, good deal?”

Izuku frowns—his head hurts from school already, and you, and now, this. Rubbing a knuckle into his temple, he says, “…I feel like I should be writing this down.”

“Yeah, probably,” Eijirō says over his shoulder without a second thought. Izuku has to shift around him to see the whiteboard better. “Now—looking at the board, do you think you could figure out which one is her love language?”

Izuku bites the inside of his cheek, adjusts thick rimmed glasses, and reads as well as he can between squinted eyes. That, and respectfully, Eijirō’s hand writing isn’t any better than Denki’s—just, somehow, more crooked. At least it’s missing the internet slang.

“Mm…” he hums, and mulls it over, and over, and over again, until he realizes, “no.”

Eijirō deflates a little.

“That’s…fine, let’s just, um,” he looks forward again, tapping the marker on his chin. The cap is still on, but he smears a line of red across his chin, regardless. “Well, quality time isn’t an issue…maybe, like, buy her coffee before class, or something? And compliments—maybe tell her she’s smart?”

Izuku bristles.

“She’s not smart.”

“Oh, but I thought you—”

“So, compliment her and buy her stuff,” Hanta shrugs at the board, before turning to Izuku with a grin, and ultimately saving both him and Eijirō from further embarrassment. “Seems pretty straightforward.”

“Yeah, say she has pretty eyes,” Denki chirps, drumming his fingers against the table. “Girls love that!”

Izuku groans, stuffs a hand into his hair, and hides behind his forearm. There’s no way he’s going to be able to do this. He should give up.

“Too late for that,” Katsuki grunts, reading his mind. “You already got those fuckers involved.”

“I didn’t get them involved!” Izuku says with a shrill whisper, lifting his head to accuse his friend with eyebrows in his hairline. “You did!”

Katsuki shoots him a quick and fake smile, one that reads ‘I know,’ before it drops. His jaw pops under the gum between his teeth, and he moves on, looking towards the front of the room again.

“And, y’know,” Eijirō adds with a shrug, “Maybe, like, a hug, or something—”

“I’m not touching her.”

“O-kay,” Eijirō nods slow, wary. “Well, I think those two things are good to focus on, either way. Oh! And, be manly—open doors, pull out her chair, etcetera etcetera.”

Izuku thinks those are all horrible things to focus on. Compliments? Chivalry? Are you fucking kidding me?

“…Guys, I think he’s gonna combust,” Denki says, eyeing his face. It’s probably red as hell, literally—he probably looks like a strawberry, he can’t help it, he’s pissed.

“I’m…fine,” Izuku whimpers. Though, he imagines the satisfying look of defeat on your face when you score lower than him on your last final of the year, and yeah, no, he’s totally fine.

He’s going to be the reason you fail, and it’s going to feel so good.

“You look good today.”

“I look good everyday, what’s your point?”

The grip Izuku has on the coffee he bought tightens, along with his smile. He places it on your desk.

“Got you coffee.”

Now, you frown, blinking up warily, “…It’s poisoned.”

“N—“ he lets out a sharp exhale, hands lifting and falling at his sides. No matter what he does, he literally can’t win. Just take the damn coffee and be flattered. “Do I look like Maleficent to you?”

You give him a good look. Up and down, studying him like you would a textbook, and it makes his skin crawl.

“Honestly? A little.”

He gives up.

“Whatever,” Izuku says, chucking a hand over his shoulder as he pivots. Luckily, his seat in Advanced Philosophy Seminar is far away from yours—the exact opposite side of the room, in fact. You sit on the left side towards the back, him the right side towards the front. It’s nice to not have to look at your face, but he still has to hear your voice, and that’s enough to enrage. Class begins, and you take all of the participation points. You raise your hand and answer without being called on, like an overactive teacher‘s pet. This is college.

“St. Thomas Aquinas outlined four distinct types of law in his Summa Theologiae, what are—”

“Eternal, Natural, Divine, and Human Law!”

“—and, what’s the definition of Eternal l—”

“Eternal law is God’s rational plan and purpose for all of creation, existing from eternity.”

“Thank you, Ms. L/N. Now—Natural law i—”

“Is the rational creature’s participation in the Eternal Law. It’s the moral code discovered through human reason and examining human nature.”

“Okay, Ms. L/N, thank you, but I would like to hear from your classmates as well.”

The class snickers. You huff, but don’t say anything else. Izuku catches your eye from across the room, mouths the word ‘embarrassing,’ and you flip him off behind your laptop screen.

The next time you raise your hand, you wait to be called on.

“Yes, Ms. L/N?”

“I think St. Aquinas’ biggest fault was associating reason with the church,” you say, wide mouthed and factual, hand still half-hung in the air. It’s kind of cute. “While it makes sense for the time, obviously, most Philosophy was, this risks turning philosophy into a tool for defending pre-set conclusions rather than questioning them.”

And now, Izuku must do the thing he’s been preparing for the entire class. Has to hype himself up for it, actually. His teeth grit, the bitter taste in his mouth already present despite the words still sticking to his throat, and he really doesn’t want to do this.

But also, he really wants to watch you flounder. So.

“I agree with Y/N on that one,” Izuku says, forcing it past his lips in and into actuality. Ew. “He builds a system where reason is expected to say inside a theological boundary. I think that boundary changes the definition of ‘free thinking’.”

Someone else has a rebuttal to that opinion, but Izuku isn’t paying it much mind. He finds you across the room, lips parted and eyes wide, hands tucked in soft balls on both sides of your laptop, bracing for something that never came. Izuku shoots you a smug smile.

Gotcha.

IZUKU: 1. YOU: 1.

You’re kind of cute, though. He’ll give you that.

TIP 3 — HANTA’S IDEA — A VERY PERSONAL, VERY PRIVATE ‘NOT DATE.’ (SWAP SPIT—NOT LIKE THAT.)

Hanta doesn’t even write anything on the board. Just stays where he is, spinning to face Izuku in his chair.

“Okay. We’re gonna pick up where Denki left off with the whole branding thing,” Hanta says with a snap and a point. Denki brings a fist in tight with a small and celebratory ‘yes.’ “What’s something you use everyday that’s, like, physical? Like a sweatshirt, or rings, or…”

“Um,” Izuku goes digging in his bag, hissing when poked by something, before he finds a small and oblong bag full of matching, “No. 2 Pencils?”

Katsuki sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “…This is depressing.”

“Hey,” Izuku pouts, and Katsuki gawks, pulling out a hand beneath folded arms to gesture to the pencil pouch like it’s a proper defense. It is not.

“How the hell are we supposed to woo a bitch with a pencil?”

“Easy,” Hanta shrugs, leaning into his chair. “You leave it.”

Izuku nearly gasps, clumsily pressing the pouch close to his heart. “But—”

“Nerd,” Katsuki begins carefully, like he’s coercing something feral out of its corner. “There’s a whole pack in there. You can donate one. To fail. Again.”

Izuku groans to the ceiling, and has to remember why he’s doing this.

“Fine,” Izuku exhales through a tight jaw, because he’s only human, and humans have their boiling points—and his, for some reason, is having to deal with you for more than five minutes, and losing one of his lucky pencils in the process. Looking back at Hanta, he loosens his clutch on the pouch. “So, what—leave a pencil, and then what? That’s it?”

Hanta hesitates, lifting a hand for a breath, before pointing at him with two fingers, “Yes and no. I have another thing—they’re two separate entities.”

Izuku sighs. “Okay.”

“Second thing,” the finger guns flip upward and split until they make a two. “Can you get her alone?”

“Uh,” Izuku almost snorts. Why does this feel like an sting operation? Operation it is, but sting it is not. “…How…alone…?”

Hanta looks up and into nothing in contemplation, and only for a moment.

“Like, a date, alone.”

Izuku snorts, chortles, guffaws, and all the other ugly noises that have weird names to match their weird sounds. Shaking his head, he insists, definitively, “I’m not asking her on a date.”

“I didn’t say ask her on a date. I said get her alone.”

Izuku groans in defeat, and now it’s his turn to pinch the bridge of his nose. There is a Debate this weekend out of town, meaning… “Yeah, maybe.”

“Okay,” Hanta snaps, “Do that—take her on a ‘not-date,’ but not like the one before. Make it private, make it personal. Like, at night.”

“Ooh, night time is so romantic,” Eijirō adds with wide eyes, and Izuku wants to do violent things.

“I feel like that’s going to waste both of our time, not just hers,” he mutters, and Hanta leans forwards on both forearms, squinting his eyes.

“Do you like this woman, Midoriya?”

This feels like a trick question.

“…No?”

“Is two hours of your time not a worthy sacrifice to get her to think about you twenty-four seven,” Hanta asks, with a lift of one eyebrow. Izuku’s head teeters in consideration. Then, he remembers—that face. Failure.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” and Hanta slaps a big hand on the table so hard it jolts Izuku’s soul right out of his skin. “Then it’s settled. Now, we gotta teach you how to talk.”

“I talk…fine?”

“Hey, um—I think I left my pencil.”

This is stupid. This is so stupid it hurts.

You look over your shoulder to the No. 2 Pencil that is, in fact, still lying on the hotel desk he left it on. Today’s half of the debate went well, and tomorrow is shaping to be even better—and the whole team crammed inside your hotel room to make sure of it.

But, it’s late, and everyone’s retired to their own rooms by now. As did Izuku—and, he thinks he’s supposed to leave the pencil for longer, probably overnight, but he cannot, in good consciousness, let his lucky pencil rot outside of its lucky pencil case for too long. So. Thirty minutes it is.

“Oh,” you notice, before you walk there and back, pencil in hand. Izuku twitches, thinking don’t touch it, don’t touch it, don’t touch it, but the circumstances are, seemingly, out of his control. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He wants to pick it up by the eraser, but doesn’t. Is it possible to wash a pencil? He tucks it and his hands into the leather jacket he got while thrifting with Denki, and sucks at his teeth. Now, for the hard part. The other hard part.

“I was…um, thinking of going for a walk, actually.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and tossing a shoulder. “Okay.”

“And, uh, was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Your sour face curdles.

“…Why.”

“Well, you know,” Izuku laughs it off, taking a sweaty hand out of his pocket to gesture between the two of you. Honestly, his plans were to, like, invite you over for a movie, or something, but he’s sharing room with Shōto, and can’t exactly invite himself into to your room, can he? His mouth positions itself to spew a load of bull, throat tight because he really doesn’t want to do this. “Because, y’know, we gotta build camaraderie between Captain and Co-Captai—”

“There is no Co-Captain.”

“Right,” Izuku lets out a shaky exhale, one filled with rage, because how dare you undermine his role like that, literally everyone knows he’s a spiritual co-captain. “Well. Thought I’d extend the invite, either way.”

You waver, biting the inside of your cheek. That’s when he realizes, holy shit, you’re actually considering—

“Give me five,” you grunt, and slam the door behind you, leaving Izuku and his lucky pencil in the hallway.

Okay. Okay, cool.

You took ten minutes to what—put on a jacket?

Izuku tries to keep his cool on the walk, but it’s hard. It’s hard, when he points out a streetlamp and says he likes the design of the victorian ones, just for you to say they’re flawed because ‘sewer gas destructor lamps’ burned flammable methane and hydrogen sulfide fumes from sewers. He turns to you with a frown.

“You’re really depressing, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you beam. It’s fake, but it makes him feel weird, regardless. “It’s a part of my charm.”

Izuku snorts. Stupid.

So, when you pass a river with quacking ducks by it’s edge, and coo, saying ‘awh, i wish i had bread,’ he makes sure to pop your bubble right then and there.

“Actually, you shouldn’t encourage that because they won’t be able to survive on their own, otherwise—they’ll just live in the pond, probably die from malnutrition, diseases, or bad water quality.”

You blink at him with the most appalled look he’s ever seen. You’re…smiling, though, which is a weird on you. It’s weird, all around.

“And you say I’m depressing?”

“Mm,” Izuku taps his chin and hums like he’s thinking about it. He’s not. “Yes.”

Eventually, you two stumble across an ice cream shop. They close in five minutes, and he doesn’t even like ice cream, but you still in your tracks and stare at the place with stars in your eyes. A disgruntled worker behind the counter sighs, and puts their gloves back on.

Izuku buys your ice cream—and gets himself a cone, too.

He doesn’t know why. He likes sweets enough, and definitely isn’t in the mood for them right now. But, here is, with a waffle cone of mint chocolate chip dripping through the grated slats of a metal table. What a mess.

“Oh my God—it’s so good,” you moan past a spoonful of your own, before scooping another and shoving it under his nose. “Try it.”

Izuku doesn’t give himself much time to think—he’s tired, his brain hurts, mint melts over his knuckles, and he doesn’t know if he has enough napkins. With a distracted hum, he takes the spoonful into his mouth, with no consideration of the fact that it was just in yours.

It’s not until he’s pulling back, spoon halfway out of his mouth, that you also seem to realize your mistake. It’s your small squeak that gets his attention, as he looks at your wide eyes, and he—oh. Oh.

Izuku recoils so quick.

“That’s, um,” he remembers there’s ice cream in his mouth, remembers to swallow, forgets to breathe. “That’s not bad.”

“Uh…yeah,” you agree, also a bit breathless.

You avoid his eyes when you take the next bite, same spoon.

IZUKU: 1. YOU: 2?

Ah, shit.

TIP 4 — KATSUKI’S IDEA — GO GHOST. (MISS YOU, OR SOMETHING.)

“Saved the best for last,” Katsuki tosses up a marker and catches it, walking before the whiteboard in a half-hearted pace. Hanta rolls his eyes and Denki groans, but Eijirō just fist pumps the air.

“Hell yeah, Bro!”

“My pointer?” Katsuki punctuates his words with a heavy tap to the board, to what he wrote in bright orange. “Do fuckin’ nuthin’.”

Izuku sighs. He wants to go home.

Luckily, he’s not the only lost boy, as Eijirō narrows his eyes at the board, leaning forward like Katsuki wrote anything other than ‘FUCKING NOTHING.’ “…But—”

“You’ve done the groundwork,” Katsuki points at Izuku, wholly steamrolling his friend. “Now, you disappear. Should be easy if you don’t like her, right?”

Izuku swallows, nods. His hands lift to the sides of his face, and he’s prepared to drag them down at the slightest inconvenience. “Right.”

He hopes he doesn’t feel as unsteady as he sounds.

“So—go ghost,” Katsuki taps the whiteboard with a knuckle this time, before his pacing restarts. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or some shit—make her realize she misses you.”

“Maybe leave another pencil, give her something to reminisce over,” Hanta waves, absentminded, and Izuku can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He’s not leaving another pencil.

“…Okay,” he shifts with caution, eyes moving from the very determined pencil thief to his childhood best friend. “But, I still have to see her though, like, for debate and stuff.”

“That’s fine,” Katsuki shrugs, “the most important part is to go back to how things were.”

“Y’know, Kat, this explains a lot about you,” Eijirō hums with a hand on his chin and a vaguely distant gaze. He looks like some red bastardization of the Thinker. Katsuki whirls around with a look Izuku doesn’t understand.

“Watch it, Shitty Hair.”

Eijirō giggles, but leaves it alone.

“…Okay. Then what?”

“Then, you’re done,” Katsuki says like it’s obvious, and it is, it should be, but— “She fails, too busy missing you to study, and you win.”

He wins. Right.

“Um, are you sure?”

There’s a fist in his lap that tightens when a word flashes through his mind. Excuses. Why is he making excuses? He wants this to be over—he hates you.

Katsuki snorts, and gives him a knowing glance. Izuku is just confused as to what he knows.

“Yep.”

Izuku nods. “Okay.”

Okay. He can do this. It’s not like he’ll miss you, or anything.

He misses you—or something.

Or something, probably, because he still hates your guts. You still piss him off in Debate, in class, undermining anything interesting he has to say. So, vice versa—you say one thing and he says another, and that’s that.

Things have gone back to the exact way they were. Almost.

They did. But—

Izuku (11:34 pm)

hey, wyd?

It was a lapse in judgment. And, a lapse in alcohol. You don’t even respond.

Izuku wakes the next morning, sweaty with a unpleasant taste in his dry mouth. He groans, pulling at the knots in his hair, because fuck, Kacchan said no contact, and now it looks like he’s thinking about you. Which he’s not—and when he does, he gets mad. Because, he hates you.

Finals roll around, and he can’t fucking focus.

Not because of you—never because of you. But, because he feels like he hasn’t done his job thorough enough, and while he’s confident, if you get anything above a 50%, he will be a little annoyed. Maybe, he’s setting himself up on that one.

The morning of his Philosophy final, he gets a text.

You (7:45 am)

dont fail too hard

Izuku snorts, rolling onto his back in his bed, and stifles a yawn.

Izuku (9:05 am)

Oh, I’m passing with flying colors

YOU on the other hand…

Then, it’s 9:45, and he’s sat at his desk with his laptop open and ready, watching the minutes count down until 9:50. In that time, he triple checks his notifications, but isn’t quite sure what he’s looking for.

Izuku feels fine when it’s done. Apparently, the LMS has other ideas.

45%

“Forty-five?!”

Izuku groans, sinks deeper into his chair and drags a hand over his face, sending his glasses askew. He’s never scored 45% in his life, in anything. Social skills in middle school, maybe, but that was situational more than anything else.

45%

How did this go so wrong? And, yes, there’s still a writing portion to be graded by human hands, that should bump him up a little, but not nearly enough. Maybe, the teacher will let him re-do it—this is out of character for him. Maybe, he can feign a family emergency, or cite his mental health, or…or…

Izuku tries to pinpoint the exact reason, the exact moment he lost his grip on reality, when—

Ding!

He sighs, opening the messages on his laptop.

You (12:05)

READ IT AND WEEP BITCH

[attached photo]

It’s a picture of you in front of your desktop, with a thumbs up and a grin. Izuku has to zoom to properly see the score—100%, and wants to throw something. It’s when he doesn’t care all that much, stupidly grinning at the picture along with you, that he realizes—

Oh.

“Fuck!”

He slams his head into the desk. It hurts.

This is embarrassing.

TIP 5 — IZUKU’S IDEA — FOLD LIKE A LAWN CHAIR. (A LAPSE IN JUDGEMENT.)

The debate team goes out for drinks at the end of the school semester. As is tradition.

What isn’t tradition, is Izuku actually attending—normally, he sits it out, choosing to stay in with a movie and take-out to recover his poor battered brain. He teeters in the an entrance of a bar he’s never attended, and severe regrets passing on Tenya’s offer to carpool, as he’s left to fend for himself in a sea of people who know exactly where to go.

“Izuku—Hey!”

Oh, thank God.

“Ochako!” He nearly sighs at the sight of a familiar face, and gives her a half-hug in the threshold. “Oh great, I did not want to go in alone.”

She frowns, pointing at the sign, “You’ve never been here?”

Izuku shakes his head. Maybe this place is popular among the students, or something.

He’s proven correct as he steps in, and it’s packed.

Mainly, he assumes, with students fresh out of finals, just like them—dead and trying to resuscitate, with alcohol and weed and whatever other substance will put a pep in their step. The music is loud enough for him to feel the bass in his feet, for glasses rattle on their shelves. He can’t help but wonder if this is a bar, or a club masquerading as one. Wonders how much business they lose during finals season.

Eventually, they weave through the crowd and to a booth. You’re not here, yet—not that he’s looking for you, it’s just that he noticed—and he slides into the booth along with his friend, texts the group chat, waiting for others to arrive.

“So,” Ochako wiggles brunette eyebrows at him, “you and Y/N, huh?”

“Um,” Izuku frowns. “No?”

She giggles, quirking her head. “Was that a question?”

“No,” Izuku clears his throat, “Um—no, we are not…whatever you’re implying.”

“I could’ve been implying that you’re both excellent Co-Captains,” she shrugs, but Izuku narrows his eyes.

“Were you?”

“No,” she snorts, shaking her head, before pointing towards the bar—or, pointing towards a group of people that look like they’re surrounding a bar. “Want a drink?”

He waves a passive hand. “I’m good—want me to get it?”

“No. Just watch the stuff,” she says, already sliding away. “If anyone else comes and they want something—text me!”

He gives a stiff salute, watching her disappear between shoulders and into nothing. (Or—everything?) Izuku gets a little restless, after that. Nightlife isn’t really his thing. He likes hanging out with people, hell, he doesn’t mind a party as long as it doesn’t get too crowded and he can comfortably perceive an exit—but, the issue with college is, everything is crowded.

“Oh—it’s you.”

Izuku lifts his head off the booth to the apathetic voice, and—oh. It’s you, too.

And, you’re not in a mathletes shirt.

No, you’re actually in a dress—a form-fitting one, one that makes him wonder what you look like with it off, and that’s not a very good thought to have about your Arch-Nemesis For All Time.

“It’s me,” he drums his fingers on the table and he forces his eyes at your face, which doesn’t help as much as he thought it would. “Ochako went to go get a drink, if you want something.”

“Nah,” you huff, sliding into the opposite side. You take your jacket off, which is worse, actually, because now he can see shoulders and collarbones, and Izuku understands why the Amish cover their ankles now.

But, it’s okay—all you have to do is open your mouth, and say something that’ll probably piss him off, and the spell will be broken. Yeah, you’re pretty, so what—so are lots of other people.

“Ugh, I want to go home already,” you mutter under your breath. Izuku snorts.

“You just got here.”

“So?” You turn to him, and he can’t tell if the look of pure disgust is because of him, or the environment—probably both. “And I want to go home.”

“Well. I think you need to get out more,” he decides aloud, which is, albeit, a little hypocritical, but you don’t need to know that. He hopes it’ll rile you up, get you normal again, c’mon, look ugly—

“I don’t care what you think,” you growl, resting forearms on the table. Izuku hates the fact that it makes him lean a little closer. The fire in his belly burns just the same—but, different, this time. Sweeter.

“You should,” Izuku clicks his tongue and pouts in faux pity. “I’m, like, really smart.”

The Final stays between him and his laptop. It was a fluke. A fluke!

He hums, settling his chin on a hand, and watches you take the bait. (Except, the fish he catches isn’t quite the fish he expects—the fish he catches is a lot prettier, and he kind of wants to fuck the fish?)

You groan with your head to the ceiling before rolling your head right. Your hands on the table ball into fists, and your tone turns mocking. (Not that his wasn’t.) “You’re, like, really not. You like Dostoevsky.”

His frown borders on appalled, but there’s a smile threatening the edges. “You like Tolstoy.”

“Because Tolstoy creates a whole world, it’s interesting.”

“It’s pedantic.”

“Your pedantic.”

“Your mom’s pedantic.”

You snort, and narrow your eyes, but it’s not a glare—it lacks the heat. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“No, that’s the best you could come up with, actually,” he points, and you huff when you realize he’s right. Izuku finally lets the smile slip.

“See? Smart.”

“You piss me off,” you spit, and Izuku shrugs.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“And I hate you.”

“Likewise, Doll,” Izuku says with a polite smile. To be honest, the pet name just sort of slipped, but comes out relatively condescending, so he’s not too mad about it.

(Why aren’t you ugly yet?)

You falter. Well, not falter, per-se, but you look at him to ensure he knows what he just said. For a moment, he thinks he sees a glint, until disgust covers that sparkle in your eye.

“Never call me Doll again. That was disgusting.”

“Mm,” Izuku hums, because now, he has a theory to test. “Is Baby better, then?”

“None of them are.”

“Okay,” Izuku nods, just enough for you to relax a little, before, “Doll.”

You scowl and kick him under the table.

Okay, now—is it a lapse in judgement that he’s here? Or is it a lapse in judgement that he wants to be, in the first place?

“Okay, okay—f-fuck—okay.”

The genkan bench is not comfortable to sit on for longer than five seconds. Noted.

“Oh my—fuck, Doll, that’s so good, you’re so good, jus—”

You pull your mouth off of him while rolling your eyes, but not the good kind. Not the sex kind.

“Shut up, you’re embarrassing yourself,” you huff, hand working on his cock as methodically as it writes your essays. Izuku likes you better when your mouth is full, he realizes.

“You’re on your knees for me, and I’m embarrassing?” He chuckles, cradling the back of your head. “Right.”

That gets him what he wants—you hiss, and put him back into your mouth with a purpose. The issue is that the purpose has his toes curling, and the back of his head knocks into the wall. If he didn’t have that drink, this would feel much worse, he thinks.

You laughs at him around his dick, which has to be on a whole different level of disrespect, but it only makes the coil in his belly grow tighter. There’s a new determination in there, when he realizes there’s new environment to remind you of your place in.

This might work.

He forces your head further down, far enough that it wipes that gloating look from your eyes and replaces it with something else entirely, as you choke and splutter but don’t push at his hips. He lets go after that, and you pull off with a snarl and a cough.

“What the fuck was th—”

He snatches the back of your head again and forces it down with little resistance. You choke initially, but he lets you pull back to where you’re comfortable. Once you get too comfortable, he shoves you south again.

“Awh, look at you,” he coos, grabbing both sides of your face to move you, and yeah, this is nice, “Chok—fuck—Choking on me like a fucking slut, huh? Is this how you let the football team do you? No wonder you’re so good at this.”

But, you can’t even respond, because there’s a dick in your mouth—his dick—and that makes him giddy in the way cutting you off in class just can’t, building bubbles in his blood and depriving his oxygen. Izuku feels great—on top of the world, even—until you pinch his inner thigh, and he makes a sound wholly unlike himself. Anymore.

His stomach tightens tenfold.

“What—h-hey—”

You pick up the calm, peaceful rhythm that he set for himself—a rhythm he was relaxing into, thank you very much. It’s not his fault. It’s his arms fault, actually. Or, his hands…they frame your face too well, and when you look up at him, he realizes he’s a little too close for his liking. A little.

“Okay, okay, let—let’s slow down,” Izuku huffs a laugh, and thinks he might be drooling—that inhale was a little wet, “Let’s, um—oh shit—”

You choke on him, willingly, and hard enough to spring tears from your eyes. Izuku does not watch the mascara starts to run at the edges, does not watch the way your lips stretch around him, does not look down your dress and into your chest. Nope. Does not.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no—hey,” he coaxes, practically pleading, and massages corners of your eyes. Bad, stupid, dumb idea—wet mascara smudges under this thumb when it slides, and, you look—you look—

“Shi—it,” Izuku drones, slamming his head into the wall (didn’t he already do that?) as his thighs lock, and he spills down your throat. You cough and splutter, and pull off halfway through, and God, you look—

“The hell, Asshole?” You huff, wiping at the corners of your lips with a sour look on your face. “Warn a girl, fuck.”

—fucking stunning.

“Hey, Nerd—”

“Get out, Kacchan!”

“Yeah, no sh—wait, what the fuck—you didn’t tell me she was hot—”

“Um…Hello?”

“Go back to sleep, Baby—Kacchan, out!”

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

The silence reverberating in your room had a subtle ring of tinnitus echoing in your eardrum. It was quiet. Too quiet. The most quiet it had ever been in all your time traveling and serving beneath Eustass Kid and his unruly crew. 

Never one to give up on your dreams, no matter where the vessel drew you towards, you took to earning your merit and continued to study despite your career in piracy. As your intensives drew all the closer, to say you were stressed was a gross understatement. 

The crew was loud, their ruckus was boisterous and unhinged, and there was no way you could ever aim to complete your final timed report over Den-Den with your assessor aboard the Victoria Punk. At least, that was what you thought. A call of your full name and title through the mouthpiece of the snail drew back your attention. 

“Are you still with me?” the voice called, snapping you back to reality, “You have another fifteen minutes for the final assessment. Do you require more time?” Drawing your eyes back to the page, you noticed your penmanship and calligraphy was almost completely concluded. All you had to do was flicker through your notepaper and cite your references, and your assessment was completed. 

“I can get it done in ten,” you smirked to yourself, the snicker through the mouthpiece from your assessor was emitted in response to your confession. 

“Well then,” the smirk they were wearing was depicted in their tone, “Make my day. Get it done, you've got this.” You hummed, steadily locating all of your quotes, highlighting your final masterpiece and running over your paper for any grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. As the clock’s minutes ticked over, you huffed out a sharp exhale and nodded at the snail’s eye lenses. 

“It’s done, stop the clock,” you smiled, presenting your sheet up to the snail's face for your assessor to shutter the final flicker over your page. You hum enthusiastically, turning through the pages and allowing a moment for several flickers to resound before removing them completely. 

“You’ve done well for so little time,” they praise you, their voice distorted in the crackled hum of the den-den speaker. “Especially considering the captain you sail under.” You huff, scoffing at the transmitter end of the speaker and glaring into the glaring lens. 

“Who I serve and sail with is none of your business,” you snarl into the snail, your aura turning dangerous and resolve dark and unwavering, “All that should matter to you is the merit of my marks, and quality of my work. That was our agreement, was it not?” The voice chuckles into the snail, the crackling voice reassuring you with a soft hum. 

“Of course. All I was saying is your companions have been awfully quiet during your intensive. I feel like the silence aided the quality of your work,” they relay on you, the rustling of printing paper and clinking of several pens retracting from a ceramic bowl over their desk while adding, “I will assess your etchings and research here and get it back with your final tally. Dismissed, and good job."

The click and muffled silence had you exhale in relief, slinking back into your chair and releasing a breath you didn't know you were carrying. The gentle rock and sway of the ship had you more at ease as you rose and fell your breath with each softening swell. Closing your eyes, you focussed on the sounds of crashing waves meeting the wooden hull, and noticing the absence of your captain's barking roars, and your crew's daily spats and roughhousing. 

Silence, the encumbering depths of uncomfortable unfamiliarity. Reopening your eyes, you furrow your brows as the silence grows more intense. Finally plagued by the bewilderment enough, your curiosity needed to be sated and you could no longer tolerate the unknown. 

Removing yourself from your chair, you cast the wood backwards and hastily stalked towards your door and flung it wide enough to indent the knob in the door beside it. 

“Why is everyone so fucking quiet?” you yell into the wooden hallway, your agitation and disdain for the silence forming in a rough grimace. 

“And here I thought you'd thank me for it,” you yelped in shock, jumping as you snapped your head over to the voice and gruff cough. Reclining beside your door, arms folded and feet outstretched on the hallway wall in front of him, his dual sythes lay beside him and itching to be claimed in his hands. 

His mask lay bobbed and downturned, his shoulders squared but his back arched in a concave atop the all-too-small stool beside the wall. Your lips parted as you attempted to reign in your grin. 

“You're keeping everyone quiet?” You gasp back your shock, gently reaching down and giving his shoulder a gentle nudge, “What made you decide to do that?” He gruffly grunts back his displeasure at the gruff motion, shrugging off your movement and seeming to pout with his biceps curling ever tighter.

“I enjoy being your watchdog,” he mocks his tone, shimmying his shoulders with pride at such a title, “Guarding you as you study, given what happened last time with your Den-Den presentation, has been my top priority.” He stands from his recline hastily, his hulking form immediately towering over your smaller stature. 

“It's true, Bubblegum’s shanties are still the talk of the lecture hall,” you give a gentle nod, smiling up at him while he steps all the closer to you. “I can still hear the chorus in my mind each time I try to recite my finals. I'm glad to have such a killer watchdog in you. But why do it?”

Slowly reaching for your chin with his scarred left hand, he steadies your face with his index finger and thumb while stooping over you. Drawing his mask all the closer to you, you could feel the whisper on his tongue before a sound was ever truly made. 

“I want to see you thrive,” his voice held sincerity and a gentle, soothing hum, “You’re the best of us, and we're all so, so,” he leaned in further, the blue of his eyes shining and glimmering between the circular holes, “Proud of you. I'm proud of you.”

You felt your breath stolen from you, as your eyes darting over the divots and indents within his mask. He held you captive, your lips parting within each moment he drew you up to him. 

As you stepped up to your toes in an attempt to make your distance close further, the sound of your crackling Den-Den printing immediately drew your attention away and back to your desk. Spinning on your heels, you sprinted to your desk and immediately clutched the papers in your hands. 

“I-... I-...” your eyes scanned the papers, darting over the page and noticing your final grade marked and annotated in bold. Your hands shook and shuddered the page, prompting a steady hand to cradle your arm from his presence behind you. 

“You…?” he whispered behind you, gently coaxing you to steady your hand, “You, what? How did you do?” 

“I did it,” you whispered, reaching up and clapping your hand over your lip to stifle your glee. Turning in his arms, you shriek your glee up at him, “Kil, I did it! I did it! I passed the- Kil, put me down!” 

Immediately hoisting you up over his shoulder, he stomped with heavy footsteps out of your room, your eyes wide with horror and shock as he chaperoned you like a sack of flour easily over his body. Marching upwards, you finally made it to the deck, glancing at the retreating darkened hallway beneath the stairs. 

“We got a pass!” Killer’s voice bellowed with glee in his tone, cheering your name in a hefty boom, prompting the crew to join him in celebrating your accomplishment. He spun you, earning a shriek from your chest as he twirled you so easily on his shoulders before grappling your waist and pinning you facing against his broad chest in a warm embrace. 

“That mean we can fuckin' speak now, Kil?” The captain bellowed in a gruff snarl, “Not gonna withhold our rations anymore? Gonna stop treatin’ us like children?” 

“You were going to withhold rations, Kil?” you slapped him in the chest with a soft pout on your features, “Why would you do that, big guy?”

“To ensure you had every opportunity to do your best,” he uttered nonchalantly, a soft shrug in his tone and a hidden smile on his lips, “And it paid off, didn't it?” Your heart began to flutter and flood your chest with a warmth unmatched. You offered a soft smile as your eyes began to glaze over. 

“Oh Kil, I could just kiss you right now-,” you began, your voice being cut immediately by a bark from your captain go break your attention away. 

“-Yeah, yeah. Food now, big guy. Hungry,” Kid brushed aside your moment together and marched over to your side, “Take our little scholar with you down there. Have ‘em in the kitchen with you for all I care. As long as I get some barbeque, I don't give a fuck. Food. Now.”

Both chuckling, Killer switched you to cradle his arms behind your knees and around your shoulders to make you more comfortable in his arms. 

“Alright, little scholar,” Killer whispered huskily into your ear, gently escorting you below deck, “Come put your hands and mouth to good use. You get first bite for being such a clever little scholar.” 

His rumbled purr rose peaks of goose flesh on your neck, your heart palpitating with each spurred moment. You attempted to stifle your nerves and gulp back your rising fluster. 

“Only if it's from your fork, big guy,” you flutter your eyelashes and feel the tense swell of his broad arms tighten their hold on you. 

He coughed his nerves back behind his mask, finally reaching the kitchens and placing you down on the stool at the kitchen island before walking to the other side of the island and beginning to ready the meal preparation for the crew. 

“You just sit right there,” he purred at you, gathering tongues, forks and several pots and grilling plates, “Be my muse, clever little scholar. Let me make you a reward.”

“Watching you work is all the reward I need, big guy,” you quirk back at him, leaning forward on the bench and slowly raking your eyes over his figure and watching him prepare the flames and fires. 

Killer attempted to stifle his soft, nervous giggle behind his lips to now avail, but he was ever thankful to have his blush hidden behind his blue and white mask. He couldn't wait to grant you a sample of the meal he'd been marinating for two days just for this occasion.

He would do anything to earn him that sultry and possessive gaze, alongside that smile he had come to pine for. The willingness to guard you as you worked stemmed from the fact that he was truly and deeply infatuated with you, and hoped you might be willing to reciprocate his affections eventually.

Hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass, he held you completely locked against his face while his tongue greedily lapped at your glistening cunt. His head bobbed and weaved, shoulders bullying their way between your legs as you stood above his seated form on the cool floor. With one arm braced against the wall in front of you, the other attempted to push his head further into you. 

“Ah, ah-!” he softly chastised you, withdrawing one of his hands from your ass and swatting your hand away from pawing at him. Laughing against your skin, he multitasked his motions by mouthing at your pussy while withdrawing his hat from his head and letting his hair shake free. Pulling away just enough to gaze cheekily into your eyes, he offered the hat out to you.

“If you wanna grab onto my hair so bad,” he thrust the hat into your hand before slowly inching his smile towards your pussy, “Better keep that warm for me and do it properly.” Before he dove back into greedily consuming your pleasure and coaxing your orgasm from you, his voice grew dark and possessive: his order coming out as a curt bark while his eyes darted between yours.

“Put it on.” 

Your hands hurriedly placed the hat on your own head just as his lips and tongue slipped between each fold and carded from your slit to your clit. Lazily lulling his tongue from his lips, he clawed at your ass with his blunt fingernails to physically grind you against his face. 

Humming at the sensation of your walls fluttering around him, he drew his right forearm up to cage your hips in while his left hand traced down the contours of his abs towards his aching cock. Rocking your hips over his mouth while he pumped his cock had his breath fall from his lips in gruff whimpers. 

He was a needy puppy, desperate to devour your ecstasy while playing with the edge of his own. As your slick messily dripped onto his face and your walls began to contract around his tongue, he chuckled against your body.

“That’s it, baby. Cum in my mouth,” he huskily growled up at you, throwing his head back into your hand, “Ride my face. Pull my hair harder. C’mon now, you can go way harder than that.” His eyes roll back when he feels your fingertips grind against his skull, gripping on tight and rolling your hips against his mouth. Your voice sounds like a sweet melody singing a song only for him. 

That wave of possessiveness twinkles in his eyes as he sees your brow contort and scrunch as you hit that peak and crest over the cliff he’s throwing you from. Humming up at you, his voice vibrates his tongue as he fucks it into your fluttering walls. His fist lazily pumps his cock with his fist while you use him to ride down that high.

“There you go,” he praised you, softly cooing your name up at you while you whimpered from the aftershocks of your high, “Good job. So fuckin' sexy using me like that. Now-.” He hastily pushed you from his face and rose to his feet, his cock achingly hard as he quickly circled his body behind yours. He gave you little time to shake off the sensitivity of your orgasm before you felt his fat tip push its way into your slit down to the hilt. He heard you gasp at the hasty thrust, prompting a greedy smile to inch its way onto his face.

“My turn,” his voice rumbled with his hissed whisper as he withdrew his cock all the way to the tip before puncturing your body with its girth. Your head fell back onto his shoulder, his lips attached to your neck as he bites your muscle to anchor himself to the earth while he hastily chases a path to the heavens. 

Hips slapping harshly in a rapid flurry, your pussy welcomes him with each cruel drag of his cock in your walls. Your prior release is so slick against his cock, he almost wants to cry. His head swirls as he feels himself draw nearer and nearer to his own edge. 

“Fuck, you’re s-so fucking wet,” he muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue out to taste the sheen of sweat he’d been drawing out from you, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.” As his eyes scrunch tightly shut, panting against your body while his hips become more staggered in their vicious clapping, “Where you want me to cum-...? Where can I-?”

Upon opening his eyes, your body was gone. The warmth from your skin, a distant memory as his cock desperately twitched beneath his heavy blankets. Hastily throwing back the sheets, his cockhead bobbed and shook as hot ropes of his release shot out all over his stomach, shaft, balls, and thighs. 

“Nghh, shit-?!” he whimpered, eyes wide as he glared at his cock. He couldn’t help the little bucks of his hips up into the air while he rode through his untouched high. Soft gasps, choked groans, and muffled huffs of breath poured over his lips and shot quietly out into dark bedroom while he rouse fully from his rest. 

Covered in his own mess, his prior expression of bliss fell into a low frown while he came to terms about what just occurred. He just came untouched, while dreaming elicit thoughts about you and him together. 

“Damn it.” 

Ace

Fingertips caressed his scalp while the fire-first exhaled a jaunty laugh. He was appalled he had used your image as his own personal fantasy, his release still coating his skin in a glistening array of spend over his abdomen. Looking down at the sticky release, he let out a soft, audible groan as he attempted not to wake his comrades. 

Quickly looking to the side, he notices a few members of Whitebeard’s crew still breathing heavily in the midst of their slumber. The slow inhale and exhale of their breath put Ace at ease while he articulated a plan to rid himself of his lustful display coating his skin. Reaching for a soiled shirt he neglected to wear for the day, his bashful smile remained drawn up over his features. 

You were in his dreams, occupying his thoughts, and corrupting his slumber again. He was praising whichever of the old gods were listening that his slumber was corrupted beneath the security of his own cabin this time. Waking up with his seed painting his pants in public was not something he looked forward to on the regular. And regular visits within his falsified memory, you enacted with gusto.

Having met only a fistful of times in person, he was floored by how his dreams seemed to get a hold of him and run wild each time he closed his eyes. Seeing your image float beneath the shroud of darkness had him shaking his head and softening his laughter to soft waves of humor. 

He was a man smitten by his younger brother’s crew member. The way your grin shot at him the first time you’d met held him hostage. Attempting to play it off, all he ever did was behave like a gentleman: his politeness and well articulated manners had you appreciate the softness of him all the sooner.

If you’d only known how desperately he needed you. 

He wanted you so badly, his thoughts betrayed him on the regular. He would often wake to see the sticky remains of your spectral slumber-visitations the moment he awoke: your smile haunting him in a way his soul would sing for. He would yearn in silence, adoring you from afar while you kept his baby brother safe. 

Although Luffy was a grown man, your captain no less, Ace still appreciated the way you would swarm to protect him at the most minor inconvenience. It was your loyalty that did him in. How much did you truly love his adoptive brother that you would follow him to whichever foe his stomach would lead him to face. He loved the way you would follow him, loved the way you would laugh jovially, and love-… love-…

He loved you. 

Everything that was you, Ace held locked in his heart. Your smile, your eyes, your heart: all away in the softest corner of his beating organ swarming his chest with heated love. While his cock appreciated how attractive he found you, his heart held you in earnest. He loved you through and through. His deepest fantasies now only solidifying that fact. 

He was deeply, hopelessly, and wholeheartedly in love with you. 

Tossing his shirt aside, Ace cradled his head with his palms behind his neck. Humming with a whimsical smile painted on his features, he shut his eyes and softly whispered your name. 

“I will see you again,” he confessed, forging a covenant within his heart and writing a quest on his soul, “I will open my heart and let you love me, if you’re willing. I want-... I need you to love me.” He uttered, rolling onto his side and cradling his chest with his arms. 

“I need you to love me. Please.” 

Holding his body closer, he gazed at his sleeping den-den-mushi, contemplating whether it was worth the disruption of your own sleep to confess his adoration towards you. He was a Whitebeard, you were a Straw-Hat. He was loyal to Edward Newgate, you were loyal to his younger brother. His infatuation was never meant to be: two pirates allied, but both ships anchored to differing ports. 

Sighing out a heavy breath, he shook his head and clutched his freckled cheeks with the palm and four fingers of his right hand. Contemplative was the expression that homed itself on his face, picturing what a relationship could look like with you on an allied vessel. His thoughts of love would have to remain in his dreams: never wishing to burden you, or pull you away from your ties to where your allegiances found themselves. 

He couldn’t do that to you. 

Not you.

His brother’s crewmate deserved more than that. You deserved more than that. More than him.

Closing his eyes, he found solace in the way you would welcome him into your arms within the call of slumber. He was smitten, enjoying the dance you would perform for him as his entertainer within falsified memory. He loved you wholeheartedly, but would never dream to tear you from the ties you had forged with Luffy as your captain. 

For now, he could only dream of you. 

Sabo

Hastily throwing his duvet off the rest of the way, he turned on his side and anchored his bodyweight against his elbow while he grasped at a cluster of tissues. Scrunching them tight, he drew them down to his body and began swiping at his skin. Several fragments of the white paper remained on his flesh while he attempted to clean up the carnage left behind from his dreams. 

“Sabo, m’close,” he heard your spectral whine keen for him. He growled at the image, continuing to pat his sticky skin free from his release. He clicked his tongue as he came to terms with the fact that he was doing more harm than good with his tissues, hastily standing to his feet and briskly walking to his ensuit bathroom. 

At the revolutionary base, he was blessed enough to have the privacy of his own quarters to bathe within. He doesn’t enjoy bathing at the most of times: his devil-fruit making him feel weak and pathetic as opposed to relaxed and tranquil. 

He was feeling weak and pathetic now, even before his body met with the rapidly filling running water in the large bathtub.

You were a part of Luffy’s crew. A 'Straw-Hat’. He had only met you a handful of times, and you were always sweet with him. Your soft voice, cheeky grin, eyes that seemed to find his and twitch in glee. He loved the way they would sparkle, those domed orbs mirroring his streak of chaos and had him want to take you into his arms and carry you back to the base with him.

Stepping into the water, he sighed out at the warmth: attempting to scorch his thoughts from his mind with the tranquility within the still waves. He drew his hands down to his stomach and swiped at it, removing the glubs of paper and cum from his skin with the heels of each palm. 

“Sabo, please. Please, Sabo. I need you,” he heard your voice echo in his mind and shift throughout his body. His lengthy digits had a mind of their own, grasping his half-hard shaft and beginning to pump at his submerged cock. His eyes scrunched themselves shut as he attempted to stifle the thought of you while his quickly re-stiffening cock fanned the flames.

“Flame emperor, please let me take your cock? Fill me up with it?” his hands quickened their reaction and his eyes flew open. That title, his title, falling from your illusionary lips and growing his desire for you more. Without much warning, Sabo hastily turned in the bath: water sloshing from the sides while he clasped the porcelain edge of the tub. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” he growled in a low tone, his brow furrowing while he chased that image of you clutching the wall, “You want me to fuck you like an animal. Let me guess, breed you?” He could barely get the words out, falling hard into the fantasy he had crafted in his mind of your body. 

His cock twitched violently, each vein throbbing while his shaft pulsed with desire. His breaths came out in choked pants and gruff huffs, quickly giving way to wanton moans that rolled into whines. His imagination ran with him, positions of you quickly changing to see you on your back with your legs pressed up into your chest. His eyes rolled back in his skull as he pictured the soft squeaks you would make while he viciously pounded your pussy with every in-thrust. 

And then he switched again, removing himself completely from the equation. He wanted to watch you squirt. He wanted to have his gloved middle and unity fingers buried to the knuckle while your wrists were tied to your ankles. He wanted to watch you squirm around his hand, trying to escape the umpteenth orgasm he’d been ripping from your body. 

He wanted to have your chin raised by his dragon-claw cane, while your lips were gagged with his other glove. He wanted to feel you squirt and fuck you through your orgasm with his hands; your clit caressed by the pad of his clothed thumb. He wanted to watch as you succumbed to the insanity he was pulling from your body with a keening scream of his name pouring from your lips-. 

“-Fuck! I’m cumming-...! H-hah, sh-shit-!” he rode his hand, the water splashing in heavy waves over the edge while he released his spend into the bath water. He sobbed your name, whimpering as he sucked his lip into his mouth. 

All he could see through his scrunched vision and darkened thoughts was the way you would grip onto him and trust him to claim you completely. To fill you with his cum, to watch as you slipped off that edge and tumbled into his awaiting arms. Rope after rope of his unraveling release spurted into the water as he rode his high. His blonde locks dance while dripping with water from the bath, his pants coming out as cries for you and you alone. 

“Fuck-! Baby, please. I need you,” he whispered as he came down from his high, feeling dirtier  now than when he first stepped into the warmth of the bath water. His physical recoil from his release had him forlorn, his brow furrowing further as he rode through the afterwaves of his bliss. 

“Shit, I do need you,” he confessed to himself. He hastily shook off his high and fled from the soiled waters: releasing the plug and watching it swirl through the drain. Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he exhaled his promise through his lips without breathing the words to light. 

He will see you again.

He will confess his desires for you.

He will make you his. 

Luffy

Immediately jolting from his bed, his brows furrowed low as he slotted his legs into each leg-hole of his denim pants. Hoisting it up over his deflating cock, he narrowed his vision by deeply scowling.

Why were you in his thoughts? Why did you ask him to defile you like that? Why did you want him to hold you close and fuck you so viciously? 

And why did he want to? 

Tugging up his waistband, he shrugged on his red vest and began to briskly walk to where he knew you were aboard his ship. Designating you as his watch shift for tonight had you positioned within the crows nest and looking out over the horizon while the rest of the crew slumbered. Reaching the woven footfalls of the rope-ladder had Luffy immediately scurry up to confront you. 

As soon as he hoisted his way up over the last barricade, his deep frown softened into a warm smile. Gently scrunching his nose, he hooked his heel into the last loop and pulled himself over the railing to slip quietly beside you.

Nestled warmly beneath your blankets, you stared at the rippling ocean and stood alert at each uncharted wave rippling in an unsoundly manner. Holding your gaze firm on the moon shining on the waves had you jolt upright the moment your captain unceremoniously plopped himself down beside you. 

“Captain-!” you squealed in surprise, gently moving to a seated-fighting position by thrusting your hands up to your chest before the familiarity of your boss removed thoughts of violence from your mind. Your shock turned into glee at his presence by your side, a subtle shift that didn’t escape your captain’s notice.

“Didn’t mean to shock you,” he chuckled with a soft wink, moving his body closer to yours with a gentle pull. Softening his cheery smile, his eyes dragged over your face and marveled at the way you looked within the night air. “Hi.” 

“Hi back, Captain,” you offered him with a slight giggle in your tone, “What brings you out tonight? Shouldn’t you be sleeping or raiding Sanji’s pantry?” He couldn’t help but laugh along with your playfulness, gently nudging his shoulder with your own before resting his cheek on your covered flesh.

“I actually came out to see you,” he admitted without remorse, defeat, or malicious intent, “I had a dream about you and wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

You stiffened beneath the weight of his confession before shifting to make yourself comfortable with his head tucked safely within your shoulder. Glancing out from the corner of your eye, you notice the way Luffy’s eyes fluttered closed while he tucked himself into your embrace. He seemed out of sorts: his actions feeling far more clingy and desperate than his usual demeanor. 

“Nightmares, Cap?” you asked him, gently opening the flap of the duvet and inviting him within your solace, “Some rough dreams on quiet waters?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” he offers, eagerly accepting your embrace by hooking his shoulders beneath your arms, “I was just thinkin’ about you, s’all. Like I said: wanted to make sure you were okay.” His arms eagerly found themselves coiling around your waist, tugging you into himself and nestling closer. 

Gently chuckling at his motions, you shrouded his shoulders beneath the cloak of your heavy blankets, nestling him into your skin and holding you within your solidified embrace. Tucking his head beneath your cheek, you softly whispered against his temple.

“You just rest, Cap,” you spoke calmly and lovingly against his skin, cooing down at his nestled form within your arms, “I’ll be right here when you wake up, alright? Just sleep.” He nuzzled against your warmth, holding himself against you and scrunching his eyes tightly shut,

His lips moved, his words muffled and incoherent as his eyes fell half-lidded. His arms felt possessive around you, holding you firmly as if you would dissipate into smoke at the earliest convenience. You could’ve sworn his lips puckered and pressed against your skin, caressing you with his mouth in a sweet kiss as he drifted off into slumber. The softest whisper tumbling over his lips and going unmissed by your ears as you peered out to the open ocean.

“I’ll see you in my dreams,” he confessed lazily, his heart on his sleeve as he slowly slipped within the depths of calming slumber. His breathing tapered out as he focussed on the easy beat of your heart, prompting his own to beat within the same tempo. 

As his breath grew heavy and laboured, you readjusted him to lie in a more comfortable position on his lap, slowly caressing the crown of his head by carding your fingers through his curled locks.

“Rest well, my captain,” you sighed down onto him, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat at the possessive undertones your profession indicated. He was your captain, a captain you knew as yours and your only one. You would lay down your life for the opportunity to do him proud: winning battles, foraging for food, and hunting beasts for a moment of his attention. He was your captain, and you were his crew. 

But the lingering emotions flooding your hearts with the warmth of infatuation had you both believe you could be more than just that. For now, contentment found you. Luffy’s breathing expanded out as his peace prompted you to guard him as you found your own. The night watch was uneventful: the giddiness of the morning to follow your captain’s sleep buzzed your senses and held you awake overnight. 

"One bed is one thing, but only one pillow and one blanket?" You sighed in frustration.

Sanji didn’t seem to be having any problem regarding that matter. He was giddy, you could feel his ecstatic energy as you walked around the room, in hopes of finding a solution you knew wasn’t there. 

“This is the most inconvenient situation we could ever be in!” He claimed with a giant, dopey smile on his face. 

You snorted, trying not to laugh. 

“I can sleep on the floor, if it truly bothers you.” Sanji added after a beat of your silence. 

“That sounds swell!” You grinned mischievously when he visibly deflated, shoulders drooping as he let out a disappointed sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous, no one needs to sleep on the floor, especially if there’s only one blanket.”

“You’re truly an angel!” 

Despite the situation, his smile seemed genuine, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“I’m taking a shower.” You needed to take a step away from the current event that was unfolding, and ignoring whatever lascivious comment Sanji threw your way, you made a beeline for the bathroom. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to share a bed with him. Your contradicting feelings regarding the situation were the actual problem. 

Being paired with the handsome pervert that was Sanji was a complete coincidence. Nami had the pleasure of pairing up the entire crew, and luck made you and Sanji have a grocery shopping date for the rest of the day. He was pleased to be graced with your presence, and made it explicit every time he opened his mouth to talk to you. 

Bless your extremely good luck that paired you up with Sanji for also granting you a heavy storm that broke out just when you were about to go back to the Thousand Sunny. 

You sighed as you washed your face, breathing in and out to calm your nerves. Everything was crystal clear, Sanji wasn’t the one confusing you. Your feelings were to blame, they were completely mixed up in your mind. He acted like that with every beautiful woman he encountered, and you weren’t any different. He did make you feel wanted, but it wasn’t real. You had to remind yourself of that. 

You liked the attention. You weren’t attracted to him at all. 

You repeated that in your mind like a mantra.

Sanji eyed you up and down in the most conspicuous way possible when you stepped out. At least the place you were staying at had good soft robes. 

“How was the shower? Nice and warm?”

“Just go shower!” You replied, exasperated. 

You wanted to get this night over with quickly. Maybe you could retain your mental stability once it was over. 

You laid on the queen size bed once he occupied the bathroom, considering sleeping with just the robe on; it’s not like you had any other option, you didn’t want to dirty your clothes even more. Staring at the ceiling, you tried to calm your nerves. You played with your hair, stared at your nails, bit your lips, listened to the strong wind whistling outside along with the steady tip-tap of the rain. You even briefly wondered what he was thinking; did he expect something from you tonight? It’s not like you gave him any indication that you even find him cute. He was a pervert, maybe he expected a peek. Would he try something? Would he touch you ‘accidentally’?

What was taking him so long?

“Ready to do this, gorgeous?” Sanji asked with a wide smile as he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a similar robe. 

“To sleep? Yes.” You countered, watching him as he undid his robe, which made you gasp. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m taking off the robe.” He replied flatly, looking at you curiously. “Are you sleeping with it on?”

“Y-Yes!” You wrapped your arms around yourself as blood flowed rapidly to your face. You got a peek of Sanji’s clearly defined abs, along with his heart-themed boxers. Your abdomen tightened in a knot in consequence. 

Damn it, this was pathetic on your part when he was the pervert.  

“Oh.” He pouted, straightening out the robe once again. 

You steadied your breathing as he got into bed right beside you. 

“Do you want the pillow for yourself?” Sanji asked you. He seemed genuinely concerned, with no undertone of lecherousness. 

“We can share-”

“I know you’d be more comfortable with it.” He smiled warmly, handing you the one pillow with the silk pillowcase. “I sleep better without one anyway.”

He was clearly lying, but you let it slide. 

“Thank you.” You looked at him with a glare as he scooted closer. “Sanji, there’s a neutral zone between us, if you cross it, I’ll consider it a direct attack.”

“A direct attack? What does that mean?” He asked with little hearts in his eyes, clearly misinterpreting your words.

“It means I’m throwing you out the window.”

“Fine.” He sighed, scooting a little farther apart.

You tried not to laugh at his reaction. Placing the pillow underneath your head, you settled as comfortably as you could, covering your legs and feet with the blanket before turning to the side. 

“Goodnight.”

You paid attention to the way the bed shifted. You heard Sanji sigh very quietly; the only reason you even heard it was because he was so close to you. The mattress shifted underneath you again, you knew he had laid down as well. 

“Goodnight, darling.”

When he turned off the light of the nightstand, the warmth coming from him gained your complete attention, and you took a few deep breaths before attempting to sleep, despite your own temperature starting to rise. 

Very hard to doze off when anything and everything startled you. It was difficult enough that you could feel his body behind you, even if he wasn’t touching you at all. You just were incredibly aware of how close he was. 

The sound of the storm outside was bothering you as well. 

You tried to find the peace that was required to sleep, but any slight movement was enough for your mind to drift off. You felt Sanji move, turning as he tried to sleep. Were you bothersome for him? Was your own body heat bothering him? You even heard him sigh a few times until it was completely quiet, except for the occasional rumbling of a strong wind outside.

After a while, you turned around, facing the ceiling. You turned your head to look at Sanji; he had also turned his back to you, and it was your turn to pout. He was too distracting even when you couldn’t even see him. His hair was pretty, though, and you satisfied yourself with that. 

The lighting brightened the room occasionally, making you gasp the one time a roaring thunder happened alongside it. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

Sanji’s soft voice made you jolt, and you looked for him in the dark. You didn’t notice when he turned to face you, but he was gazing at you so intensely, his one visible eye gleaming, it made you nervous. 

“Yeah… Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“I wasn’t asleep, no need to apologize.” Sanji smiled, sitting up against the headboard before turning on the light by the bedside. 

You watched him look for a cigarette by the nightstand before lighting it up and taking a firm puff. Smoke filled the air when he breathed it out. You hated, sometimes, that he was so attractive when he smoked. 

“Smoking is bad for you.” You commented flatly. 

A stupid, completely idiotic thing to comment on; Sanji had smoked since before you even met him. There hasn’t been one moment when he even considered not smoking. However, you couldn’t help yourself. 

He laughed quietly, gazing at you with a fond eye that made you melt. 

You didn’t know what prompted you to do what you were about to do, but you didn’t question it. You reached for the cigarette, taking it from his lips and bringing it to your own. Sanji looked at you, completely wide-eyed, as you took a deep breath of the smoke into your mouth.

You didn’t exactly know how to smoke, it was inevitable you’d start coughing. 

“This is awful!” You said, trying to catch your breath. 

Sanji laughed nervously when you handed him his cigarette back. You eyed him curiously while recovering from the dumbassery you just pulled, and saw him wipe the blood suddenly dripping from his nose with his robe. 

It was your turn to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, visibly nervous. 

“Nothing. Pervert.” Your tone had no malice, only playfulness. 

“You’re the one who took my cigarette,” Sanji replied, agitated by what just happened. “Nonetheless, I’m blessed now that this has touched your lips.”

It was your turn to feel blood rapidly flowing towards your cheeks. You started to feel a little weak in the knees, and luckily you were laying down, because the need to reach out and touch him was there. 

Your gaze remained on Sanji as he took a deep drag on his cigarette. It was possibly the hottest you ever felt. You had never done something like that, but you understood why he got a nosebleed when you saw him wrapped his lips around the foot, the same place where your own lips had been.

As you considered maybe taking a risk within these four walls, he turned to look at you with a fondness in his eyes you had rarely seen. He usually reserved those for Nami (or so you thought).

“What?” You asked with a timid smile. 

“You’re beautiful.” Sanji said, breathlessly. 

Taken aback and embarrassed, you were momentarily reminded that he was like that with every gorgeous woman. 

It wasn’t real. 

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” He asked, noticing the change in your expression.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what, love?” Sanji asked, looking at you with concern as he noticed your trepidation.

“You know… Flirting, complimenting me.”

“I should always tell you how beautiful you are.” He replied with a chuckle. 

“It’s just…”

“If it truly bothers you, I’ll tone it do-”

“I don’t think it’s true.”

There was a moment of silence, except for an unusually loud thunder that broke the atmosphere. 

Sanji stared at you with a frown, and you were nervous about what he was going to say. You weren’t fishing for compliments or validation. You simply didn’t feel like your appearance was deserving of all the things he said (especially when Nami and Robin were far more beautiful), in addition to the fact that you didn’t believe most of the words that came out of his mouth. 

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” His face showed sincere uneasiness. You only eyed him briefly in response. “I fear I don't actually say it enough then.”

“Don’t be silly.” You scoffed, amused. “It’s fine, I appreciate your words but-”

Sanji exhaled the smoke towards the side, avoiding your face, as he laid down beside you, propping himself up with one arm. Your face felt warm with how close he was, and you were glad the room was dim-litted, or else he'd have inevitably noticed how nervous you were. 

“I meant it every time I have said you’re gorgeous and beautiful and sweet-”

“Okay, okay!”

“I think I should say it more to convince you!” Sanji grinned roguishly. In your anxious state, you couldn’t come up with anything to say as he took your hand in his, squeezing it affectionately. “Your beauty knows no bounds. Your freckles are like stars on a clear night. Your smile lights up the entire room.”

You cringed at the incredibly eloquent speech he was using, sinking more into the mattress. 

But the action that made your heart flutter was the kiss he placed on the top of your hand. 

“Sanji.”

“Yes?”

“The neutral zone.”

“Oh.” He pouted, shoulders drooping. 

He didn’t let go of your hand so quickly, running his fingers over your knuckles and giving it one last squeeze before letting go.

“I truly meant every single word.” Sanji added, voice so serious that it made you look at him with surprise. There had been only a handful of moments when he stopped acting like a simp around you, and this one was making your stomach turn. “It pains me that a wonderful woman like you doesn’t see her own beauty. You’re even kind, strong, always looking out for all of us instead of yourself. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Your eyes were as big as flying saucers when you stared at him. Everything indicated that he was dead serious about what he just said. 

When Sanji took a long drag on the cigarette, you had to look away. 

Maybe you were overthinking. Maybe it was time to admit, at least for that one night, that not only did you find him attractive, but that you also wanted to touch him in the most sinful way. 

“You know… Maybe it’s not a bad idea to violate the neutral zone for tonight.”

You yelped, bewildered, when Sanji was suddenly on top of you, practically caging you to the mattress, as soon as that last word left your mouth. 

“Do you mean that?!” He almost yelled, and you could actually see his pupils turn into little hearts.

“For tonight!” You repeated, afraid you’d break so easily underneath his gaze.

Sanji gasped, delighted, and leaned down to get even closer, only to realize he still had his cigarette in his mouth. You watched, amused and in shock, as he pulled back enough to spit it out to the other side of the room before burying his face in your neck. A giggle escaped your lips, and you ignored the fact that what he did was a hazard (in hopes that the room wouldn’t catch on fire).

Your laugh soon turned into pleasant hums when he began peppering the skin of your neck with kisses. His fingers tangled in your hair, caressing it as if you were the most delicate being. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the soft fabric of the robe underneath your fingertips, just as he pulled back enough to gaze at you. 

“Can I?” Sanji asked, focusing on your lips. 

“Yes.”

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. He softly pressed his lips against yours in a sweet first kiss, and it completely took your breath away. It was delicate, experimental, just lips pressing together, but it made you all the more weak. 

As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, Sanji pulled back only to press another kiss to your lips. And another. And another. 

“Sanji!” Another giggle escaped you the more he kept on kissing you. 

“Oh, baby! Sweetheart! I can’t believe I get to do this with you!” He exclaimed, trailing kisses down your jaw. When he sneaked one arm around your waist to play with the tie on your robe, he pulled away to look at you with pleading eyes. “Can I take this off?”

“You don’t have to ask every time, honey.” You replied with a smile. 

“Okay, y-yeah, okay…” 

With a peck to your lips, Sanji sat back between your legs as he undid your robe with nervous fingers. 

You had forgotten that you had no underwear until the moment you saw his eyes bulged out of their sockets at the sight of your bare skin. 

“No underwear?!” He cried out, covering his nose as blood splurted out. You only giggled in response; he was anything but dull. 

With his hands on your hips, Sanji kept staring with a wide-eyed gaze, drinking in all your curves, in all your naked glory. Feeling a little self conscious, you tugged at his sleeve, urging him to do something. 

“J-Just a minute, I wanna admire you a little longer…”

You scoffed, taking the opportunity to undo the tie on his robe while he leered. Once you opened it up, you licked your lips at the sight of his chiseled torso. It was your turn to stare as you softly ran your fingers down his chest and abdomen. There was a prominent bulge in his boxers that made that warm knot in your belly bloom. You were curious and more than eager to feel his cock in your hand.

Before you could pull down his underwear, Sanji pressed his body to yours. Squeezing your chest in his hands, he planted open mouth kisses on your cleavage. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He praised you as his lips wandered down your chest. “More beautiful than what I had imagined.”

You were about to ask him more about whatever scenario he had imagined prior to this, but his tongue licking one of your nipples emptied your mind. You moaned softly, arching your back when he wrapped his lips around it, eagerly suckling on your sensitive skin. A jolt of pleasure traveled up your spine as he pinched your other nipple, and you couldn’t help but spill all kinds of noises. He was definitely enthusiastic about you, groping, licking and sucking with a burning passion that made your body burn up underneath him. 

It was insane how dripping wet you already were. Maybe you were the pervert; you felt like you were on fire just from him playing with your tits.

“I need to kiss every freckle on your soft skin.” Sanji trailed his lips down your abdomen, kissing around your belly button, ripping a breathy giggle from your mouth. He focused his eyes on your face with a grin. “The sounds you make! I can’t wait to hear more of your wonderful voice.”

You hated how good Sanji was with his praises, it was like he knew what you liked before you even told him anything. 

Running his tongue down your lower abdomen, he grazed his teeth on your belly, making you squirm. You gasped when you felt his breath right above your pussy. 

"I want to taste you so badly." Sanji pleaded, with a gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Full of lust and almost desperate, serious, like he might die if you were to deny him such pleasure. 

Sitting back on your elbows, you gently ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back so you could see his pretty face and meet his gaze, and spread your legs enough to present your glistening lips for him to see how keen you were. 

“Then do it.”

With a gasp, Sanji darted out his tongue, not wasting any time. You both moaned simultaneously, loud and lewd, when he drew a stripe with his tongue, from your pussy all the way up to your clit. Your hips jerked up in response, searching for more.

With a newfound confidence once he perceived your desire, he wrapped an arm around your abdomen, grabbing and kneading your belly as he dived in for more. Licking up your pussy again, tasting your arousal, he groaned wantonly. His mouth found your clit in an instant, and your hips bucked against the warmth of his lips. Bursts of pleasure pulsed through your body, making your thighs quiver with every lick and kiss he gave. 

You tried to keep your eyes fixed on Sanji as he fervently ate you out, but his warm tongue and soft lips were making you roll your eyes back. Even he seemed to be lost in his own pleasure, groaning and humming as he slid his tongue over every inch of your pussy, like you were the first meal he had after wandering the dessert for years. 

You threw your head back with a gasp when he plunged a finger inside you. Your hand twisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to let him know that you were beyond pleased with his actions. He moaned in the most sinful way, as if he was the one getting pleasured. 

Have you discovered just how good Sanji was at giving head? You couldn’t believe your own luck the more he suckled on your clit, leaving you completely breathless. Once he added a second finger, curling them inside just right, you couldn’t control the desperate whine that spilled from your mouth. His touch added more to the knot in your abdomen, heat increasing more and more every time he pumped his fingers. 

When he pulled his mouth away from you, you’d have protested if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers still kept going, sliding in and out steadily as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You let go of his hair, holding onto his wrist instead, squeezing it hard when he stroked that sweet spot that made you see stars. 

Sanji crawled back up to you, fingering you with a hard and fast rhythm, as he kissed your neck. 

“Does it feel good, princess?” He breathed, gazing at you with eyes blown by lust. 

“Yeah…” You replied, barely able to hold eye contact. 

In your haze, you took the opportunity to reach inside his underwear and wrap your fingers around his cock. Sanji visibly shuddered and his fingers faltered inside your pussy. You couldn’t see it but his dick was warm, hard and wet with precum. It pleased you to know that you couldn’t wrap your hand around it. You moaned, desperately, once you felt him twitch enthusiastically in your fist. 

“Fuck…” He cursed, kissing you promptly. 

The kiss was full of unrestrained lust, tongue gliding inside your mouth as he moaned desperately. You accepted it, tasting yourself and the nicotine on his lips, getting even more wet, dripping your slick down his fingers. 

You twisted your hand around his cock, slowly pumping it once, twice, before Sanji promptly stopped moving his hand to take a hold of your wrist. 

“Wait-” He begged, breathing heavily. You thought you might have hurt him, but when he rested his forehead against yours, you knew better. “I’m gonna come if you keep going…”

With a chuckle, you kissed him again, soft and sweet. 

“If that’s the case,” You pushed at his shoulders, sitting up. “Then, I wanna be on top.”

The look on his face was one of the funniest expressions you’ve ever seen in him (and he had done many during the years). He gaped at you with eyes close to popping out as soon as he heard your last words, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. His disheveled hair was a nice addition, thanks to your own ministrations. 

“Ye-Yeah, however you want me, sweetheart!” Sanji managed to get out, swiftly shrugging off his robe before lying down on the bed to let you do as you pleased. 

You bit your lip, nervous and excited, as you took off your own robe. As you straddled him, you seized the chance to admire his naked body. Sturdy chest, defined abs with dips and curves that you traced with your fingertips. A wonderful cock, long, lean, flushed at the tip, and leaking precum. The thought of maybe sucking him off crossed your mind, but you figured it was better for the both of you to have him inside your pussy. 

Hovering above him, you couldn’t wait anymore and quickly guided his length to your entrance. Sanji had prepped you well, and once the tip was pushed inside you, you both let out a relieved moan. In one slick motion, you slid his cock inside, taking him to the hilt. 

You let out a stuttered whimper. The warmth that had grown in your lower abdomen felt close to bursting. Maybe you were close to your release sooner than you expected, too. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, chest heaving as he took in the view of your body on top of his. Sanji panted like a wounded animal, leering at you intensely. A very quiet curse ripped from his lips the longer you took to move. You lingered for a moment, hands bracing on his chest, reveling in the feeling of his dick, warm and twitching inside your pussy. 

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, a fire lit up inside you. You rolled your hips experimentally, and the fullness of his dick made you dizzy. 

“Oh my God…” Sanji moaned, low and desperate, sliding his hands down your legs to squeeze the fat of your thighs. 

He held onto you like you might slip away and disappear any second. It made you feel all the more desirable, especially when he kept looking at you with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open. 

Lifting your hips, you began bouncing yourself on his cock. The way it stretched you out, how hot it was to feel it pulsing inside you. It all made you lightheaded. You threw your head back with a cry, lost in your own pleasure. 

Leaning back, bracing yourself with your hands on his thighs, you dragged out a moan when you felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix. It was a better angle, stroking your most sensitive spot, going even deeper than you thought was possible. Dropping your hips down on his thighs, you fucked yourself over and over, tits bouncing with your every move. 

“Feels so good…” You breathed out, mind going blank with how good his cock was. 

You had easily pushed shame and insecurity towards the back of your mind. Sanji’s dick was so good it made you forget whatever doubts you had, but also his words, his praises, his touch, they had smoothed over your edges, and you let yourself go. 

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, hard to the point of bruising, you gazed at him, and almost tumbled over when you noticed his nose was bleeding. 

“Sanji!” You cried, worried and amused, as you reached for one of the robes. 

“What…?” He asked, completely oblivious.

“You’re bleeding!”

You tried not to laugh at how funny he looked as he sat up; completely dazed, eyes wide open with hearts instead of pupils, and a full on nosebleed. His face was red as you pressed the fabric to his nose, snickering quietly. 

“Keep it together, I don’t know how I would explain to the guys that you died like this!”

“Who cares?” Sanji grinned, squeezing your waist in appreciation. “I just couldn’t find the right words to describe your beauty, princess.”

“So you got a nosebleed instead?”

“Couldn’t be helped.” He shrugged when you discarded the robe to the side after cleaning up the blood.

“I left you speechless? That’s a first.” You teased him. 

“You just drive me crazy, my love.”

Sanji promptly kissed you, holding tightly onto you as his cock fluttered inside your pussy, making your heart flutter as well. You moaned and returned the kiss with a smile, thighs quivering against his hips. 

Grinding down on him, you tried to pick up the pace with the same intensity you had moments ago. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, steading yourself as he kissed your neck, groaning against your skin once you found your previous rhythm, hips swiftly slamming down. 

With every roll of your hips, Sanji panted, gasped and grunted. The noises that slipped from his lips made you even wetter. The storm outside still rumbled with thunder, but it didn’t compare to the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin inside the room. 

“You’re perfect.” The whine that escaped him gave away how completely lost he was in the warm sensation of your pussy. He held firmly onto you, grabbing and kneading your ass as you rode him. 

You decided (maybe against your better judgement, but who could blame you when his thick cock was inside you?) to admit to something you had never said out loud. 

“You feel better than what I imagined.” You moaned into his ear, low and sultry.

You felt the way Sanji tensed up underneath you, and you were pleased when he let out a nervous, breathy laughter that turned into a groan, like he couldn’t believe what you just confessed. As a reward, he sneaked his hand between your bodies to earnestly stroke your clit.

Shuddering at the sudden burst of pleasure, you dug your fingernails into his back, ripping a moan from his throat. His fingers had brought you closer to an orgasm before, and it would only take so long until you got there again. You wanted to make it last. You had been holding off for a while, trying to enjoy this moment for as long as you could, but you couldn’t contain it anymore. 

When his hips bucked up into you, ramming his cock hard enough to reach the deepest spot inside, the warm knot in your abdomen snapped. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. It completely overwhelmed you, like fire burning through your body. Your vision turned white as your toes curled and you quivered uncontrollably.

“Fuck, baby,” Sanji panted, staring at you, memorizing your expression as you came. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The way your pussy clenched bought him closer to the edge, and soon enough, he was groaning while his hips thrust up unsteadily.

“Where do I…?” He asked with an imploring gleam in his eyes, while he still retained some kind of common sense. 

“Anywhere you want.”

You knew Sanji wouldn’t think of pulling out, and you didn’t want him to. 

His hips stuttered when he came, a grunt ripping from his throat as he pumped out his load. His cock pulsed as his cum filled you to the brim, and you couldn’t help the whimper you let out, overstimulated from your recent orgasm. 

“Fuck, thank you.” Sanji groaned against your neck, rolling his hips to ride out his bliss. 

It was amusing and endearing that he was thanking you, you could only manage to stroke his hair as a response. 

You yelped when Sanji tumbled backwards onto the bed, bringing you down with him, still keeping his arms tightly wrapped around you. His cock slipped out, making you both hiss as his cum leaked from your pussy, down your thighs. 

His grip on you only loosened after a beat, and you pushed yourself off with wobbly arms to lie beside him. You were still trying to catch your breath when he turned to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re so pretty when you come.” His words were warm as he squeezed your side, looking at you with so much affection that it made your heart skip several beats. “You’re beautiful all the time but… Thank you for letting me come inside you.”

His praises rolled out of his tongue like they would any other day, but even you could tell that he was being genuine, not the usual over the top compliments he gave when he was being dramatic. It captivated you all over again.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” You said with a giggle, though your cheeks were warm with embarrassment. 

Sanji planted a brief kiss on your lips that surprised you before he got off the bed. As you fluffed the pillow to get back to the shape it originally was before you fucked each other, he returned with a wet towel and a glass of water. 

You gladly hydrated yourself as he cleaned you up. Your face got even hotter when you noticed how much he stared at your pussy, still oozing out a few drops of cum. 

“Pervert.” You smiled in jest, poking the side of his head with your foot. 

With a grin, Sanji caught your ankle, planting a kiss on your foot’s sole. 

You giggled when he crawled up to you, putting the empty glass on the nightstand before kissing you softly. It was sweet, tongues gliding together as you hummed, cupping his face and caressing his cheeks, feeling his stubble with your fingertips. He ran his hands up and down your sides, kneading every curve of your body. 

Afterwards, you laid in a somewhat comfortable silence, curling beside him as he lit up a cigarette while keeping an arm around your shoulders. It had been a while since you were intimate with anyone; you were utterly spent, muscles pleasantly aching, and a certain soreness beginning to grow between your legs. 

You eyed him carefully as he took a long drag of his cigarette. You didn’t know how you’d be able to face him again and act normal after that night. You didn’t have a lot of experience, but you knew enough to reckon that Sanji had given you the best orgasm ever. Once the sun came out, whatever spell that was between the two of you would be broken. And you tried not to let panic settle in.  

Sanji could probably feel your anxiety, or that’s what you thought when he suddenly kissed the top of your head. 

“We can keep this to ourselves, if you’re uncomfortable.” He said, and you gazed up at him with a lot more hurt in your eyes than you’d like to admit. He could hardly miss that, and immediately went on. “Or… I’d be happy to do it again, my love, whenever and however you want me.”

You smiled, big and warm. 

“You still have a lot of freckles I wanna count with my lips.” Sanji added with a grin, letting you know how much he still desired you. “I didn’t get the chance to complete that task, princess.”

“Well, then.” You leaned up, pressing a loud, mushy kiss to his lips. “Whenever and however I want you, you say?”

The lights are glimmering and the music is lively as people dance and laugh under the first blinks of starlight. You step off the path and feel the exciting spark of the night flicker up your spine. Immediately, you’re swept up in it, twirling through the closely pressed crowd, hips swaying and hands up as if you touch the sound itself. It’s so nearly perfect, the playful energy and the sound of joy soars your spirit. There’s only one thing missing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, but Sanji still isn’t here. You had stood outside his door, knuckles pressed to the glass, prepared to knock. You wanted to ask him to walk with you, but more than hesitation had seized your hand. Despite how you wanted his company, you sighed and turned away- walking all alone into the night. It was the right thing to do, surely. Sanji had so abruptly departed, withdrawing into his room after the long walk he’d carried you here. You were probably the last person he wanted to see at the moment. You knew if you were to call him out, he’d come, even if he didn’t really want to, but that thought didn’t sit right with you.

A hand closes around yours and you’re spun out of your thoughts. You can feel by the shape alone, it’s not who you want it to be. But, still, you smile, coming face to face with a handsome gentleman who gives you a warm grin. When you don’t pull away, he pulls you in- fingers tangling in yours and palm settling on your hip. You let him sway you out of your own mind, dancing you back into the present moment.

You relax a bit with every movement of your body. Your dancing partner is nice- funny, even- already drawing a genuine laugh from you. His lithe tanned body smells of spice and rum and his warm hands don’t wander. Not warm enough- you tilt your head back and shake that wayward thought loose.

“How long will you be here?” he asks and you laugh as he twirls you out, hands tethering your reaching arms.

“Just tonight,” you tell him and his eyebrows raise, a little pout on his lips as if he’s genuinely disappointed to hear that.

He swiftly reels you in, his chest pressed to your back, arm wrapping around you where your fingers are still tangled together. His hand settles back on your hip and he leans in, breath against your ear, “Well,” you feel the rumble of his chest on your bare back, “we’ll just have to make it one to remember.”

Your heart flips at his words of promise, body warming in his arms. He sways you there and you tilt your head back on his shoulder, turning your eyes up to the sky. A pretty blue you could dive into, shimmering stars through which to swim. Your hand reaches up as if you might brush your fingers over the celestial divine. Your partner’s hand wraps around your arm and slides up, softly ghosting over the delicate skin of your inner arm- brushing over your wrist where your pulse thrums just a beat slower than the drums. His fingers press into your palm, thumb brushing the back of your hand. “So pretty,” he says softly- and pulls your arm down, away from the heavens.

There’s a little pang in your chest, even as he tucks you closer, both hands holding each other. His hold starts to feel just a little too tight, arms more constricting than comforting. You want to step away, at least a bit- put some dancing distance between you and sway back into the way you felt mere moments ago. “Do you want-“

You don’t hear the rest of his question when heat blooms over your skin. Your head whips to the side, in search of its source. There, through the flowing crowd, blue eyes fix you with a fiery intensity that you’ve never been on this side of. Your breath hitches, heart rising to the drums. Sanji moors you with a look you’ve haven’t met before, leaned elbows back on the open bar, and dressed sharper than a match ready to light.

His body is angled towards you, even at this distance- a compass that only points to one thing. The familiar warmth of him comes in at the eyes, sizzling savory down through your body. Torches cast dancing flames and shadows over his form, golden and draped with sensual moonlight- a deeper blue pooling at his edges. “My Prince…” it comes quiet with stolen breath.

“What was that, baby?” Your dancing partner asks, dropping his face lower towards the crook of your neck.

You need to go to him. You need to go. You need- “My-”

Your words die with a gleeful squeal of laughter. One of the girls from the bar leans up against him with a bright smile, hand settling over his chest, fingers playing with the golden chain that dips into the low cut of his shirt. Sanji turns his head to face her and the fire dies, leaving nothing but ice in its absence.

Your breath shudders and you look away, turning your face back to your partner- who’s so close to you now. “I…” your voice stutters a moment and he grins, thinking he’s flustered you. “I said, let’s dance.”

He smiles, “as you wish,” and spins you out of his grasp before pulling you back in to face him, hands settling into position to sway together. You let yourself be soothed the rhythm of movement, warmth slowly returning to your body.

You will not look. You will not. You just keep dancing, eyes closing every time you’re spun to face that direction of the bar. It’s not any of your business- not a bit.

But that look- all fierce and fire. Perhaps he’s still angry, but surely Sanji would never be that furious with you. The intensity of his gaze had licked you with the tongue of his flame in a way you have never known- from all the way across the bar. And all you wanted… was to feel it again.

You drop your head to the crook of your partner’s neck, breathing his spice and rum- gulping it down and willing it to fill every aching crack in your chest. Whatever this fixation is you’ve been having on Sanji has got to stop before it breaks something that can’t be repaired. You’re convinced it’s just the desperation talking, the need of your body drawn to the one man who’s constantly praising it. You just need to shift its focus to a different one- give it a more appropriate alternative. Once that need is satisfied, surely it’ll curl up and sleep and stop trying to force you to make bad decisions.

Your hand slides from his shoulder, down his chest. Not as broad. They roam lower, between your bodies to the plane of his stomach. Not as strong. He lets out a low, satisfied hum at your blatant exploration, “you like that?” Not as charming. He brings his lips down to your ear, hand at your waist sliding lower, “my turn next,” he purrs. Not as warm.

You take in a breath, leaning back, “not yet.”

His hand twitches at your side, not wanting to hold back, but he does- looking down with a smile and a wink, “we have all night, baby.” You’re settled by his words- he really does seem nice. Nice enough for the last dance of the night, at least. With a little more dancing and another drink or two, you think he could stir your thirst as well as sate your need. He spins you again-

And you’re swept up into the hold of more fervent passion. The fire ignites beneath your skin and your heart kicks into a more powerful rhythm as the music dips into a salacious melody.

Sanji leans into you until your back arches in his hands, the burning blue of his eyes driving the intensity of his gaze into you with a force that threatens to buckle your knees. But then, he moves, powerful steps stalking between your legs and you step back in time- a thrill slithering up your spine at the rush of his chase. Sanji circles you with predatory focus and there’s nothing but the anticipation of his strike that builds for a heartbeat, his body coiled for the moment that comes at the heady drop of music.

His hands find your waist and you’re gliding across the floor, utterly weightless. Sanji slots his leg between your own and slides you apart, slit of your dress parting over your thigh as he drops you into an agonizingly slow circle around his body. When he rises you up again, you step back from him with a sensual sway that entices his forward approach. But, you turn from his grasp- teasing his fire as you drag your hand around his chest and press your back into his. You tip into him, bowing as a hand ascends to thread his soft hair- the other sloping down the curves of your body.

Your eyes flutter as your fingers dip dangerously low- and Sanji reaches around, spinning you out in front of him, letting your arm drag through his grip before locking your fingers together between reaching arms. He slowly reels you back into him, further and further into his hold, until he’s pulled your arm back past his head, tilting you into his waiting grasp- fingers capturing your chin. His thumb ghosts your mouth and he dips, lips pulling back from his teeth as he bites down the desire to kiss you. Your mouth parts, pressing forward in his hold and you taste his breath through quivering lips. Sanji grins, teeth lightly snapping a hair’s breadth away.

He turns you in his grasp, and you feel the heat of his body as he stands just behind you. You don’t miss a beat, arms going up and body ribboning as the music stutters into something more desperate. Your head tips back and your eyes close as you dance yourself on the sound. Sanji stares you down hungrily, his hands slinking over the curves of your rolling body, tracing the edges of your figure- but never touching. He doesn’t have to- you feel the heat of them trailing with every pass- fingers splayed, hands violently trembling with fraying self control. The desperation swells, the heat mounting up your spine- building, surging, cresting.

You tip back in the climax, letting your body tumble through the air- the rush of free-fall undulating as your heart leaps into the grasp of a man you know will catch it. Before you can feel the hard brace of the ground, warm hands secure your liquid drop. Your eyes flutter open to see Sanji’s, his face framed with flame and night. He holds you there, suspended a step from the ground- just long enough for his control of your body to seep deliciously known.

He hauls you up on the final beat, only allowing one foot to barely grace the ground. His big hand is wrapped around your thigh, hoisted up at his hip. It glides up the slit of your dress, your foreheads pressing together as the music recedes and there’s only the tide of your breathing left to wash over the shore of your bodies-

Broken by raucous applause and whistles. You pull back enough to remember where you are. Eyes blinking, drawing a gasping breath as you break through the surface of the moment that had only been you and him and sound and nothing else in the world. Your eyes flit to Sanji’s and he’s looking at you like he’s still there- still lost in it. Like he will never again see anything else.

“Sanji…” His eyes go to your lips, searching for the shape of his name still on them. His body is hot- so hot that in the haze of the low lit night you can just barely make out thin little wisps of steam that rise from his exposed skin. There’s a molten ring of burning gold in his ocean eyes- and a twitch on his mouth when your tongue darts across your lips. His arm around your waist tightens and not even the points of your toes reach the ground now. Your breath hitches and his fingers sink deeper into the plush curve of your thigh he’s still hoisting over his waist.

Rose blossoms across your cheeks as you become so acutely aware of how he holds you open and vulnerable against him- the eyes of the crowd still on you. There’s a warm rush between your legs and as if he can sense it- Sanji’s eyes snap down where he’s holding you flush against his low body. With a slow push of his hips that you can feel more than you can see, the weight of him moves into your center- and you gasp when something bumps against your most sensitive of places.

His eyes go back to your mouth and he leans into you, deepening the press between your thighs. His tongue slides out sinfully as he brings his his face inches from yours, teeth lightly snapping as if on the verge of sinking into your quivering lips. “S-sanji…?” He sucks a breath, breathing the taste of his name from your lungs, pausing only for a moment at the sound.

“Oi!” A voice calls out, and Sanji stills. “If you’re not going to kiss her, I will!” A chorus of laughter erupts, along with a few more whistles and shouts at Sanji to- “Kiss her!”

Your hands tighten around Sanji and the heat on your face tips into something a little more humiliating as you cast your eyes to the sand. Sanji rears back and something breaks across his face as the spell is shattered. He places you back upon the ground gently, with trembling hands. His eyes are wide, but the liquid flame within them is receding to something more subdued and still.

Sanji takes a few steps back from you and folds himself into a deep bow of complete veneration. A few heartbeats pass before he rises again, keeping his head tucked down as he takes a few backwards steps before turning on his heel and weaving through the crowd- disappearing into the midnight.

➽──────────────❥

You lean back on your bed, starting up at the ceiling trying to think of the exact moment it had gone wrong. But, it was harder to pinpoint than you’d care to admit. It seems like all day you’d been causing trouble for Sanji. He’d spent his whole day in your orbit after your conversation this morning and you can’t help but think it was because he felt compelled to do so. Then he was having such nice time at the bar and you’d muddied it all up trying to wingman him. Seemingly messing up the way he was wanting to go about things with those other women.

‘Those other women.’ Again, that pang in your chest. You don’t at all like the way the thought courses through you all pitchy and tar. But, you can’t help but wonder if he spent more time with them through the day- if he’ll spend more time with them tonight.

There’s a pout on your lips as you consider it, though you try to push it aside. You can’t keep getting in the way of his good time. Whatever he wants to do, he should be able to do it without worrying you’ll interfere- intentionally or not. You’ve been selfish today- maybe more than today, if you thought about it- but today especially. So focused on one thing that you weren’t even paying attention to how it affected him. You should have known better considering how much Sanji always looked out for you.

And how had you repaid that kindness? By putting him at the center of your twisted little fantasies even as he so sweetly carried you all the way back to your room. You didn’t think you were so outwardly showing it, but you must have been. You shouldn’t have been thinking it at all, you chastise yourself.

How desperate are you? Putting your friend- your nakama- in that position? How wrong- how dirty- to think of Sanji that way. Thinking of showing your body to him, of touching yourself in front of him... Sanji would never drop you, he’d just keep carrying you- maybe trying hard not to look- as you play with yourself in his arms…

Your face turns towards the mirror and you stare at your own reflection, seeing yourself for the first time since this morning. Seeing just how much of your body had been on display- had been up for grabs. So badly wanting to be touched- how many times had you imagined it today? Not even caring who, just wanting someone to come up behind you and dip their hands into your bottoms right there in the pool… Sanji crawling into the hammock with you right there on the bank where you lounged, his hot body the only thing concealing you from those passing by as he uses those skilled hands to massage you in other places.

Your bare legs slide up the mattress, knees coming together above you. Fingers gently caressing over your thighs, sliding lower, lower, lower, and you just can’t help yourself- you start spreading your knees apart. Wider and wider, hands roaming over the inner plush of your thighs.

You keep watching yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to witness your own sinful indulgence. How terrible Sanji must think you are- how dirty. Spending all day whoring around for attention and it still wasn’t enough. If only he could see you now, acting nothing like the Princess he claims you to be.

Your fingers rub over the thin crotch of your suit and you can already feel how it glides when you press it into your folds, finger ghosting your clit through the fabric. If he saw you touching yourself, if he knew you did it thinking about him… Your body squirms and you press harder to your clit, hips rising as you grind. You should be punished. Nasty girl, should get exactly what you’re so desperate for- body used and fucked right here for anyone to see. “Yes, yes,” you moan, hips rolling, “touch me, please- please.” You give into your own pleas, slipping a finger under your bottoms and sinking to the knuckle in your pussy. You imagine it’s Sanji’s. “I’m sorry, I need it, I need it so bad,”

Your back arches off the bed, as you fuck yourself and Sanji follows suit, cock already hard again in his hand as he times his thrust with the pump of your fingers. “Shh, I’ll give it to you, Princess,” he responds knowing his words won’t reach you through the two way mirror. “Don’t cry, Angel, I’ll fuck you,” his tip is already leaking again, still reddened from the beating he just finished giving it, “I’ll touch you, make you cum so good…” Sanji doesn’t know who you’re talking to- who you’re begging- but he imagines it’s him. How fucking bad he wants it to be him…

Moans tumble from your lips as you get close to your orgasm and Sanji doesn’t think he’s ever been more blessed than he has been today to see it happen twice. “That’s it, Angel, keep going,” he encourages from his knees on the floor in front of the mirror still dripping with his last load. He knows you can’t see him, can’t hear him- but he can see you. He can hear your breathy moans and your wet cunt as it aches to cum. He can see the little tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you desperately chase it. “I could make you so full, ma chérie,” he offers to the glass. “Let me fill you up, don’t cry…” His hand goes over his sensitive cockhead and he sucks in a breath at heightened sensitivity. “Gonna cum for you again, Princess,” his voice quivers and you cry out, jolting off the bed, “yes, yes, yes, cum on my cock- cum on my cock,” Sanji pants, both cum slicked hands gliding over his dick, “gonna cum- ah, fuck-“ he releases again, splatting on the glass.

His new mess mixes with his old one and he reaches out to pool some in his hand before slathering over his filthy cock. Sanji has a feeling it’s not going to take long for his body to heat up again. Getting going has never been a problem for him- it’s the stopping he sometimes struggles with.

Sanji sits back and stretches his legs out in front of him, letting his heavy cock rest against his stomach. Trying to settle his breath before the inevitable pulls him back again. He watches you, coming down from your high, body relaxing into the bed, chest rising and falling as you find your own breath. He admires your beauty with a pang in his chest, longing to go to you and fold you into his arms. Just to hold you, just to have you.

Sanji tilts his head back, “dammit,” he huffs. He had you in his arms earlier, nestled so sweetly into him and his own body betrayed him- subjecting him completely to the mercy of his own lust. Which wasn’t all that merciful to begin with and it was getting worse- getting stronger. It had been for a while.

Ever since you met, you have always been the most magnetic thing in the world to Sanji. But, since his body had begun to change, that had increased drastically. The heat had always been there, and he’d always released it the ways he knew how. But, now the inferno rages so often within him and it’s intensity is so singularly focused on you that he’s afraid just being in his presence will pull you into the blaze.

Sanji wants to charm you. To woo you, to court you- like a real prince. And yet he can’t stop acting like a damn dog. He’s trying to restrain himself, trying to hold back. He’s not even sure you’re interested in him the way he's interested in you. If your discussion this morning was anything to go by, you hadn’t even believed the things he’d been telling you- or at the very least, you’d been doubting them. And now, you’re out here looking for something that he so desperately wants to give you.

But, Sanji can’t be the one to open that door. Because he knows you well enough to know you’d go through it just to make him happy- even if it wasn’t truly where you wanted to be. And he can’t stomach the very idea of that. It has to be your choice, it's the one constraint he’s actually managed to stand by, albeit just barely. Despite the cognitive dissonance of his feelings for you, that at least, he’s been firm on. Though, he’s not sure anyone else would agree if they knew all the things he does do instead. Like what he’s doing now, for instance.

Your lush body rises out of the bed and with one little yank of string, your top tumbles to the floor. His muscles tighten as you shimmy your hips, your bottoms dropping down your legs. You step out of them and walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower. You don’t close the door- why would you? You don’t think anyone is watching you.

But Sanji’s watching, leaning back on his elbows and enjoying the view. It occurs to him that whoever built this contraption is just as perverted as he is. There’s no corner of your room that he can’t see from his side and your shower door is glass. As long as the bathroom door stays open, he gets to see everything.

Sanji stretches out onto the floor, propping his head on his fist. The lust is there, the heat is simmering, but there’s peace too, in just watching you. His eyes track your every movement, the way the water drips like diamonds over your skin, the way you let it rain over you, lifting your hair so it falls down your back.

The water feels good, though it stings just a tad over your sun kissed skin. You scrub every inch of yourself, heart thumping as you think it may be the last wash you have before you tangle with a partner, so you want to be completely clean. The soap smells sweet and tropical as you lather it over your body. It leaves your skin feeling smooth, the steam relaxing you into the scent.

Sanji’s heart near bursts when your voice rings out in song. Like an angel, the pretty sound lilts and travels into his very soul. “Oh, mon amour,” he sighs, dropping to the floor and laying his head in his folded arms, completely overcome with adoration of you. There’s a warmth in his chest that’s distinct from the heat simmering in his spine.

You dry off and don’t bother bringing the towel with you as exit the bath, grabbing a few of the bags from your early morning shopping trip and tipping their contents onto the bed. You place your hands on your hips and bite your lip as you consider what to wear. You’d gotten quite a few pretty things, but not everything was quite fitting for a tropical late night party.

You’d also gotten a few sets of lingerie, but after thinking about it for a minute, you set those aside. The party would be poolside and you wanted to be able to jump back in if you felt so called. To that point, you’d need something that could easily slip on and off. There’s a little smile as you bite your lip, considering what else you may be slipping your clothes on and off for tonight.

Sanji near growls at your cute little shake and giggle. Bottom lip tucked in your teeth, finger tapping your chin as you decide what to wear. He twitches at the swing of your breasts as you dip down and grab your discarded bathing suit. You put it back on, and Sanji starts to hate the thing- as much as he loves it- for hiding those sweet precious parts of you from his eyes.

Then you grab a dress from the pile and Sanji perks up, leaning forward with eager eyes. He’s near crawling towards the mirror with anticipation and he’s rewarded when you turn around, his heart flipping at how gorgeous you are.

You approach the mirror to get a better look and smile- clearly happy with what you see. Sanji can’t imagine how you wouldn’t be. The fabric wraps around your chest, accentuating the curve of your breasts and keeping most of your back- and some of your midriff- exposed. It flows like water over your hips, cascading to the ground with a slit to the side that goes all the way up your thigh.

“Tu es belle,” he breathes in utter awe of you. He suddenly feels so inadequate there naked on the floor at your feet- unworthy to even look at you. He rises to his knees, kneeling unseen before you, ready to offer you something, anything- everything. But he doesn’t know what he could possibly give you that would be deserving enough. Certainly, not himself. He’ll greedily take anything you give him and offer up any part of him you want, but he knows he’ll never truly be deserving of either give or take.

You smile, trailing your hands over your form and swishing your hips, watching how the dress flows around you. It ripples like water, like the ocean itself, and Sanji’s heart squeezes as he notes the color a perfect match for your drink- the one he only makes for you.

The color itself seems made for you, all blue and beautiful- his gem of the sea.

➽──────────────❥

Translations: "Tu es belle," = You are beautiful.

➽──────────────❥

You float down an avenue of the lazy river, settled back in your raft, looking up at the sky just beginning to change color. You’d need to go in soon and get ready for the transition to night. You can already see some of the lights strung through the trees, lining the pools and the cabanas, flickering on. From what you’ve been told, the parties can go pretty late into the night. They’re not as crazy as they during the “on season”- apparently- but from the way it was described to you, it’s still a decently electric affair.

You seem alone on this circuit of the river, the crowds filing out to either get ready for the party or to avoid it. The water is cooler now but not unpleasant here in the shade as the sun goes down. Your fingers drag through it as the current rounds you out towards the open pool. Voices bubble up as you get closer, but no where near the clamor it was earlier. You wonder if Sanji is still there. Of if he’s gone off with one- or all- of those girls from earlier.

Something sharp pangs through your chest as you consider it, hand rising to soothe it. But it’s not quieted and you’re not entirely sure why. It’s a squeeze to your heart when you think of him. Or, more specifically, him with those other girls. Which doesn’t make sense considering you had encouraged them in the first place and you didn’t feel this sting back at the bar. Maybe it’s unrelated. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

All you know is there’s pain.

And then there’s not- when you see Sanji standing on the bank of the pool. You nearly tip out of your seat, wanting to go to him. A strange sense of relief floods you knowing he’s been there, waiting for you. And a touch of guilt because you think that’s a little unfair after he’s spent all day looking after you.

Sanji’s stepping towards you as if he’s also too impatient to wait for the current to bring you to him. He crouches at the bank, reaching out his hand- and you grab it before you can float by. Your fingers clasp as he holds you there, keeping you from being swept away.

“Ready to come out, Princess?” You nod and he leans down, strong muscles keeping him from tipping into the water, as he puts your hand around his neck and slides the other under your legs- hauling you out of the water, your little raft floating away.

There’s a delightful little squeal as he picks you up and you tighten your arms around his neck, laying your head in his shoulder. He starts walking towards the resort, taking one of the winding jungle lined paths. “Sanji, I can walk,” you insist.

“Oh, but you looked so peaceful floating in your little raft, Angel,” he smiles, “I can’t stand to put you back on the ground just yet.”

You chuckle a little as his theatrics, but you don’t mind it. You settle into his hold, fingers mindlessly playing with the buttons of his open shirt. His chest is warm and you get warmer realizing you’re pressed skin to skin. Your knuckles brush up against his chest as you mindlessly roll a button, fidgeting with his clothes. There’s a momentary stutter to it as his breath trips and you take a deep sigh of your own, breath ghosting across his neck.

He smells so good. Cocktails and coconuts and just a hint of smoke. The drinks of the day haven’t all quite left you yet and your mind is slow to realize that you’ve pressed your face closer to the curve of his neck, open mouth breathing him in- and that maybe you should not be doing that. You pull back a bit, embarrassed, but Sanji’s tilted his head slightly as if opening himself up for you- inviting you in.

Your palm presses over his chest, feeling the sturdy drum of his heart. You let its rhythm march you forward towards sobriety. But with every beat of clarity you become so acutely aware of how he carries you- like the Princess he insists you are- tucked tight against his body. But you’re still barely dressed, the curve of your breast is pressed into his chest, slightly bouncing with every step he takes.

Sanji’s hands are nothing but courtly, holding tight and not dipping into your more lascivious curves despite how close they are. Close enough that you can feel the heat spreading from his touch up into more receptive places. The hand that winds around the top of your body, splayed just below your breasts- the lower curve just nearly bouncing against the top of his knuckles as he walks. The motion of it is stimulating and if Sanji were to look down at you, he’d see just how much- pert little nipples peaking up to entice his touch.

A flash of fantasy crosses your mind before you can even think better of it. You’re barely covered, just scraps of fabric that can’t be called decent. How easy it would be for it to simply slip off you. You could do it, you think. When Sanji steps, you could shift your body just so and your little nipple would pop right out. What would he do then, you wonder. Would he look? Would he like it? Would it make him hard?

Would he touch it?

You suck in a breath, letting the cool night air breeze those notions away, but the scent of him just settles deeper in your lungs. Sanji looks down at you as if he can see right into your dirty thoughts. You look away from him, face heating up as you try to push the images from your mind. What the hell are you even thinking? It’s not like you at all, and it’s certainly not fair to him.

But you’ve been working yourself up all day and the alcohol is still sitting warm and low so, you suppose, it’s no wonder your body is so responsive to touch even if it is innocuous- even if it is Sanji’s. Even if his big hand at your thigh is seeping heat all the way into your barely concealed cunt. Your thighs press together, just slightly. Too slight- you think- for him to notice, wondering if you’d find yourself wet if you slid your hand down to check.

What would he do then? You, again, wonder. Imagining trailing your hand over your curves, slipping it in between your legs to finger yourself in his arms as he carries you-

Your hand fists into his shirt and a little frustrated growl sounds from your throat as you drop your forehead back to his shoulder. “Princess~?” he draws out your name, “something bothering you?” he asks in a tone that just barely suggests he knows exactly what’s bothering you- but that’s hardly fair to assume. It’s your own viscid thoughts that tinge everything a thicker shade.

“I think,” you swallow and Sanji’s eyes track the little bob of your throat, “I think I should walk.”

He smiles down at you, his eyes bright in the fast fading light, “don’t you like it when I carry you?”

“I do like it.” His smile widens at how quickly you respond. The problem is you’re liking it a little too much right now, but you can’t tell him that.

Sanji hoists you higher and you yelp, one hand grabbing onto his shoulder, the other tangling into his hair for balance. Not that you needed to- not that Sanji would ever, ever, drop you. “Then let me keep carrying you.”

All protests die in your throat as you ease your grip, but your hand doesn't leave his soft hair. He’s holding you high enough now that you can easily see over his head, watching the path behind you wind away, little strings of light glowing warmly down on the steps Sanji leaves in the sandy path. You rest your chin atop his head, gently rolling strands of his golden hair between your fingers. Above him now, like breaking through the clouds, you start to find a little more clarity.

The same can’t be said for Sanji, however. In this new position, your breasts are mere inches from his face. It would be nothing for him to turn his head and bury himself between them. At least in this angle, you can’t see the way he so brazenly leers at you. His mouth waters as his eye lock on those pointed little nipples, how badly he just wants to tip forward and pull one between his teeth, sucking through your suit.

Sanji had clocked the moment they pearled up- the shift in you as your body began to blush and warm in his hold. He noticed when you pressed your thighs together- how could he not? Your eyes had glassed over with what he could imagine was some sensual fantasy and he would have paid any price right then to know what it was.

In truth, as much as Sanji loves carrying you- he fucking loves it like crazy- he also doesn’t want to put you down lest you see the way his cock strains in his swim shorts. His erection bobs with every step, cockhead rubbing against the seam, and he thinks its a very real possibility that he’ll cum before he makes it back to your conjoined rooms.

Sanji’s trying to hold it in, he really, truly, is. But his body never fucking listens, the fire inside him always demanding he release the steam one of two ways- fighting or fucking. He feels the pressure building in the base of his cock, his abs tensing for the blow, but he breathes deep, tightening his hold on your body as he tries to hold himself back.

There’s a shudder in your body when you feel Sanji’s hot breath crest across your breasts, his hands tightening his hold on you. You respond equally, with a tighter clutch in his hair and his name concerned on your lips, “Sanji?” He bites his tongue to keep from whimpering at the feel of your grasp and the sound of his name on your tongue. “What’s wrong?”

His voice is thick as gravel, so close you can nearly feel the vibration of it rumble through your nipple- so low it warms something down between your legs. “Je veux te baiser.”

You brows furrow as you try to slowly replay his words in your mind, parsing through their meaning. You know some of his words, the ones he’s taught you, but these you don’t know. Sanji knows you don’t know- it’s the only reason he can say it. The words poured out of him faster than he could stop, and he’s just fortunate they fell in his mother tongue. But, the blatant confession, the filthy admittance from his mouth mere inches from your skin is enough to push him over the edge.

He’s going to cum. He’s going to fucking cum.

He quickens his pace, and he can see the warm brick and the lights strung across your patio. Your rooms are in sight, he just needs to-

“Veux baiser…”

He doesn’t make it. The breath is stolen from him as your sweet voice parrots his words, completely unaware of what they mean or what they’ve done. Sanji feels the first hot spurt of his cum seeping into his shorts and rolling down his shaft- feels the next load about to burst. He knows himself, knows how much is coming- how much he’s cumming- he won’t be able to hide it, won’t-

Sanji jumps, his powerful legs closing the distance in one forward lurch. You squeal in surprise, arms wrapping around his head at the sudden jolt- pressing your breasts into his face in the process and Sanji shoots again.

With absolutely dizzying speed, Sanji has you at your back door, your legs taking a moment to find their balance, hand going to the glass. As your whirl to look at him, he’s already gone, and you catch nothing but the flutter of his shirt as he walks through his own door and shuts it forcibly behind himself.

You stand there in the night, bewildered, trying to figure out what happened. What went wrong. The night feels suddenly still as you realize- it was probably you. You are what went wrong. Your thoughts had likely been more obvious than you realized and Sanji hadn’t been able to endure it any further. It certainly wasn’t the reaction of your fantasy and you felt warm guilt settle low for having even let it enter your mind in the first place. So stupid. So stupid.

So dirty~ your mind sings, subsuming the guilt into the desire it wasn’t ready to cast off just yet. You step into your room and draw the curtain behind you.

Sanji’s barely able to yank the drape closed behind him when he slams the sliding door to his room. He falls to his knees, fingers digging into the floor as he crawls forward, hand pushing his shorts down just in time for another spurt of his cum to shoot out, landing in heavy wet plaps on the floor.

He fists his cock, face down and fucking into his own hand- your words echoing in his head. “Veux baiser, veux basier, veux basier,” he begs with you, “Je veux te baiser.”

Sanji watches through the two way mirror as you step into your room, completely unaware that just inches away from you he’s humping into the floor- milking his own cock. His eyes look up at your body, so fucking greedy to see more of you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he curses through his clenched teeth. He had cum- he had fucking cum- WITH YOUR BODY IN HIS HANDS. “Ohh, fuuuck,” he groans the sound of him jerking his soaking cock loud and disgusting in his room and he almost wishes you could hear it.

And when he jumped? When you clung to him and his face hand landed right in your breasts, his lips had smashed right atop your hard nipple. Did you know that? Did you feel it? Oh god, he wants to suck you raw.

Sanji’s fingers curl into the floor, keeping him rooted exactly where he is despite every instinct in his body telling him to go to you right now and sate his fire between your legs. There’s little sparks along his spine and he rips his shirt off before they can catch. He has to cum again, has to relieve this pressure or fuck he was going to light.

He reels up on his knees, turning fully to face the mirror- watching you sit so pretty on your bed, leaning back on your elbows and staring up at the ceiling with a little pout, completely lost in thought. Sanji knows you can’t see him, but he imagines you can. Imagines that if you just turned to look his way you’d see right through the mirror at what he’s doing.

Sanji’s hand works furiously at his cock for you while his eyes stay locked on your soft body. “Here it is, baby,” he growls, “this what you want, right? Come here, come fucking take it.” One hand pumps his shaft, the other beating at his swollen cockhead. “I’ll fuck you,” he promises, “I’ll fuck you til you can’t take it anymore.” His words begin to snarl together, losing himself in the desperate appetite of his libido. “Teasing me all goddamn day,” he barks, “I’ll fuck you like the nasty slut you wanna be so bad,” his baser instinct eats away at his chivalry, leaving nothing but vulgarity in its wake. “Wanna act like a whore, Princess, I’ll treat you like one.”

You turn your face to the mirror and Sanji speeds up, bucking his hips up into his choking grip. “Yeah, look here, baby- keep watching.” He demands, despite knowing you can’t actually see him, but his eyes are locked on yours and his body responds as if you can. “My special girl, so good- so good,” he whines. “Gonna make a mess for you, Princess- just for you.” A deep groan vibrates through his chest and his cock pulses in his hand, “tu vas me faire jouir- fuck-fuck-fuck-“ The pressure explodes as he cums, thick heavy ropes pushing through his cockhead, swelling it up before it splatters all over the mirror. His cock thrashes in his hand and Sanji keeps pumping, milking out every last drop. “Ohhh, fuck, Angel,” he pants, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the cool glass.

The heat simmers, slowly receding as he gasps for air, hands squeezing around his cock to force out every bead of cum- no longer squirting, but squeezing out from his leaky tip. Sanji thinks it’ll be enough- for a while, at least.

But then you pull your knees up the bed and lightly trail your fingers over your thighs- sliding lower, lower, lower-

Sanji groans as his cock twitches again.

➽──────────────❥

Translations: “Je veux te baiser.” = I want to fuck you. “Veux baiser…” = I want to fuck... “Tu vas me faire jouir-” = You're going to make me cum-

➽──────────────❥

As the day lazes on, you find your place in it. Confidence renewed with Sanji’s earlier affirmations and your determination to make the most of your precious vacation. You spend time in the louder areas, easily mingling with the crowd- dancing and drinking even with the sun still high in the sky, just beginning to tip into evening. You pace yourself, knowing the real parties start at sundown, but you’ve loosened up considerably. And that had made a world of difference. You’re enjoying yourself, insecurities forgotten.

You rise out of the pool, water cascading down your body. More than one head turns as you emerge and you feel a rush of ego knowing that one of them would be in your bed tonight. Your options had opened up significantly, and more than one man had made their interest known. But you were feeling good- you’d let it simmer until you’ve made your decision after a night of dancing.

There’s a crowd at the cabana as you make your way over and you already know why. Sanji’s behind the bar, mixing drinks with a flourish and putting on a show. The two of you had settled into this corner of the resort- the rest of the crew spread out in other directions. You had half a mind to drag Sanji away from the bar- to remind him that he deserves to use this time to relax.

But he looks genuinely happy there, putting on a show. You suppose he doesn't get to show off for crowds very often and this one was particularly receptive to all his tricks. Especially the ladies who push in closer, leaning over the bar for his attention- which he, of course, gives them with a wink and flourish. He’d never deny a lady anything.

You remember what he told you earlier- that it’s relaxing for him watching pretty girls enjoying the things he gives them. That certainly seems true now as he leans against the bar, pouring fruity pink drinks. You wonder if, perhaps, Sanji’s searching for his own special company.

In which case, you should try encouraging him, the way he encouraged you. Unlike yourself, however, Sanji doesn't lack in confidence so you may have to get more creative. Surely, you’ll think of something.

You head up to the bar, looking for a spot to sit, but it’s completely packed. Sanji does a double take as he spots your approach. You wave to him and he smiles at you, calling you over.

“Oi,” his face turns hard as he snaps at a man sitting at the bar, pointing his finger at him, “you. Move.”

The man rears back, nearly offended, “What-“

“Now,” Sanji orders, placing a beer in front of him and adding a more polite, “please.” As if suddenly remembering his hospitality.

The man looks like he wants to protest again, but whatever he sees in Sanji’s eyes stops him. He grabs the beer and stumbles away, muttering his displeasure. You quickly hop up into his seat, pushing your wet hair back. Sanji leans across the bar on his elbows, plopping his chin in his hands as he looks at you with sweet adoration. “My angel,” he coos, “I’m happy to see you’ve taken flight.”

You smile back at him, a pretty little blush dusting your cheeks. “I see you’ve made yourself at home,” you tease.

“Oh you know me, Princess,” he says, tilting back and grabbing bottles to mix drinks for waiting hands, “I live to serve.” He slides a drink down the bar, not a single drop spilling as it stops precisely in front of its patron.

“What will you serve us next, Sanji~” a flirty voice lilts from beside you where a group of girls are pressed together in their bathing suits and you can’t imagine Sanji being in a happier position.

Sanji claps his hands together, turning to the women but not moving from his spot in front of you, “ladies~! Anything you want!”

“Anything~?” one of them asks, twirling her finger over the rim of her empty glass.

Her friend snickers, leaning on her arms against the bar, pressing her breasts together in her bikini top, “you could give me some sex on the beach,” she purrs.

Sanji snaps his fingers with a wink, “coming right up, Madam.” He turns back to you, “but first…” he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What can I get my special girl?”

Your smile widens, tipsy little heart fluttering as it always does when he fixes you with his more flirtatious attention. You open your mouth to respond when-

“Why does she get to be your special girl?”

“Yeah, I thought we were special, Sanji.” The ladies pout, giving him a hard time.

“Of course you are!” He assures, “all ladies are special and you three-“ he points to each of them individually, “are special indeed.”

“Well I ordered my drink first.” That one seems a bit tipsier than the rest and you try not to take her jab personally even as she thrusts a finger in your direction. “So what makes her more important?”

Sanji holds the woman’s gaze as he leans across the bar, bringing his face close to yours. Your breath hitches as he grabs your hand, placing a kiss to the back of it. “She’s mine,” he says simply. His thumb brushes over your wrist, surely feeling the flutter of your pulse as he turns to give you his full attention, “what would you like, Princess?”

Every choice you could have made completely empties out of your head, “Um… surprise me?”

“Every day,” he winks, standing back up and grabbing the bottles to mix something just for you.

“So are you guys like together?” one of them asks, pointing between you.

“Every day of our lives!” Sanji answers with great enthusiasm.

You laugh and roll your eyes, “it’s not like that,” you reassure her, not wanting to give her the wrong impression in case Sanji does have any plans to monopolize their attention later. “We sail together,” you inform her, hoping she doesn’t ask you to elaborate since you don’t think most people here realize you’re pirates.

The other gasps, eyes widening as she looks at Sanji, “you’re a sailor!?” There’s such excitement in her voice, that you're struck with inspiration on exactly how to wingwoman Sanji.

“Oh he’s the best sailor you’ve ever met!” you tell her, “sailed all the way across the Grand Line!”

“You would know,” Sanji smirks, “you were there.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” you press closer to the group of girls and they press back, eager to hear more- even the grumpy one. Your voice drops low, like you’re telling them something extra scandalous. “He’s strong- really strong- I’ve seen him fight off whole bands of pirates by himself.”

“Pirates!?”

You nod, “a-huh, but he won’t admit it- he’s too sweet-hearted to talk about such things in front of women.”

“Pirates are a pretty nefarious lot…”

“They sure are,” Sanji agrees pointedly, setting your drink in front of you. The same pretty blue one he made you earlier. You wink up at him playfully, lips wrapping around your straw and Sanji’s glad there’s a counter between you as he remembers the way you tasted on the last one- and what he was doing when he ruined it.

“Ooh, I want that one!” she points at your drink, as you take a big sip- noting its a touch stronger than before.

“Sorry,” Sanji tells her with a shrug, “that one’s just for her.”

The girl pouts and you think for a man who loves to flirt so much he’s not doing a very good job of it right now. “But!” you steal her attention, “I bet if you ask him really~ nicely, he’ll make something that’s just for you.”

For the tiniest fraction of a second there’s a minute twitch to Sanji’s brow before he plasters on his signature showman’s smile. “Sure, I can do that,” he winks at her, “but you have to be real nice.”

“We can be nice.”

“We’re so so nice.”

“So nice, we share everything,” that one's suggestive tone leaves no room for doubt about what everything means.

You sit back, sipping your drink, feeling satisfied that you’ve helped set Sanji up to turn this in his favor- if he so chooses. But, it bothers you- that little twinge of displeasure you caught in his expression. You wonder if you’ve perhaps overstepped somehow.

You shake your head, taking another drink. Surely not, Sanji is always vocal about his love for the ladies. Sure, you’d never actually seen him entertaining one beyond his usual flirtations and acts of service, but you’re certain he has. He’s too charming to have not had those options presented to him at some point. Maybe he just thinks it isn’t ladylike for you to wingman him.

“Tell us more about your adventures, Sanji!”

“Yeah, tell us more about how strong you are~”

But, that would be silly. Sanji is your best friend and sometimes a woman’s endorsement is more convincing than an artistic flourish behind the bar- regardless of how sexy it is. “Not only is he strong,” you offer, “but he’s the best swimmer on the crew.” You rise from your seat, taking the last swig of your drink. “His stamina?” The glass comes down on the counter for emphasis- “is unbelievable.”

The girls grin at you and you know your job is done. You give Sanji a wink and a sneaky thumbs up before you turn away- completely unaware of the serious way his eyes trail after you.

The sun is a bit brighter as you step out of the cabana’s shade, world slightly tipping. You make the executive decision- while you still can- of no more drinks until you’ve sobered up a bit. You do want to actually enjoy tonight, especially since you have so many plans for it. A warmth settles low, the way it always does with your teetering around sobriety.

Sanji watches you walk off, heading towards the line of swaying hammocks by the curve of the lazy river. “Hey you!” he barks at the original bartender who’s kicked his feet up at a nearby table, hat over his eyes. He tosses the bar rag at him, “break time’s over.”

“Sanji, where are you going!?” “You’re leaving already?” “Come back~”

Sanji doesn’t so much as turn around as he stalks after you, singularly minded as he threads through the crowd. He catches sight of you through the foliage, laid back in the shady hammock. Arms behind your head with one leg draped over the side to maintain the sway. Sanji’s steps falter at the divine fucking vision of your form. Your eyes are closed and there’s a slight flush to your body. Your tongue darts out, still tasting his drink, teeth gently sinking into the pout of your bottom lip.

Sanji doesn’t even know what to say to you. Doesn’t even know how to explain why he ran after you. He thinks maybe he should turn back around when you crack an eye open and look up at him, “oh, Sanji!” Your smile suddenly tips down, “what are you doing? Your fans will miss you,” you tease.

He crouches down so his face is level with yours, hands threading through the edge of the hammock. You pull your leg in, turning on your side to face him- letting Sanji keep the rock for you. Which, he does, his hands gently pushing and pulling you back and forth. “What was that about, ma chérie?” There’s an adorable little crease between your brows he can barely stop himself from smoothing with his thumb. But, you look at him genuinely confused. “With those girls,” he clarifies, a finger gently tracing up your soft inner arm.

“Oh!” You smile at him, proud of yourself and he cocks a brow. “I thought I would help you out.”

“Help me out?”

“Yeah! You know, since you helped me out this morning, I thought… that…” your words die off with your enthusiasm as you note his expression. It’s not disapproval, but it’s not as enthused as you thought it would be. “…that I would help you, too.”

Sanji’s heart squeezes at the way you look at him- like you’re afraid you’ve disappointed him. But then a genuine amusement blooms across his face and your expression softens, “you trying to wingman me, angel?”

“Wingwoman,” you clarify. He laughs, small at first, but it bubbles forth and your sweet giggles ring out to harmonize. “You’re not mad?”

He grins, “I’m not mad.” You can feel the ‘-but’, in his tone, see it try to form on his lips, but he can’t seem to wrestle it loose.

“It’s my first time,” you tell him. “How’d I do?”

He nods, a mock serious expression twisting his features like he’s really thinking about it. His heart flips when you giggle again, “pretty solid execution,” he concludes.

“I’ll get better,” you offer, “we can practice together.”

“Oh?”

You nod, “you can do me next- show me how it's really supposed to be done.” There’s a familiar low twitch at the way you phrase that. Followed by a heat that simmers in his chest at the idea of trying to offer you up to another man.

Sanji knows what you want, what you’ve spent all day looking for. He’s happy you’ve found your way to your confidence since your conversation earlier. But, it has been a very explicit sort of torture watching you flit about and entertain the approach of other men. He hasn’t been able to leave you alone, keeping his distance, but keeping you in sight. You might think it’s just so he can make sure no one takes advantage of the way you’re putting yourself out there, but that’s only part of it.

The other part is a mix of being unable to take his eyes off you, your beautiful body on full display made all the more gorgeous by the confidence in your skin. Another is that he just can’t stand the not knowing. Not knowing if you’ve found someone, if you’re off in some shady corner letting him put his hands on you- the way Sanji wants to.

Luckily- for him- you’ve been reserved in that aspect so far, not letting it yet get to that point. But, Sanji knows its coming. Knows its where you want to go and knows there’s a line of men willing and waiting to take you there. He needs to find a way to reckon with that- and fast.

“Sanji?” you call out to him, prodding him from his silence.

Sanji takes your hand again, bringing your fingers to his lips, thumb brushing your wrist- loving the way your pulse always picks up for him. “I’ll be where you can find me,” he tells you. “If I haven’t seen you in an hour, I’ll come check on you.”

You smile, a pleasant warmth settling in your chest, feeling so secure- so safe- in the way he looks out for you. You’re glad he’s here. You think, perhaps, you’ve only been able to be as adventurous as you have been today because of him. Not just because of his encouragement, but because of his presence. Knowing he’s always nearby makes you feel safe enough to be a little more dangerous. “You’re such a Prince,” you praise.

He touches your chin affectionately, “for you, Princess.” Then stands and heads back towards the cabana, hand sliding into his pocket to touch your straw he swiped from the bar.

He may need to find another changing room first.

➽──────────────❥

It had taken some convincing from Nami and Robin, but you wore the suit. The itty-bitty strappy one they encouraged you to buy after mentioning offhand how you hoped to find some special company during your overnight stay. But, it is so far outside the realm of what you usually wear that you can’t help but feel a bit shy- especially knowing that just a couple hours ago, you’d pleasured yourself in it. It felt like anyone who looked at you knew it too. It’s an embarrassing thought, but also… a little bit exhilarating, if you’re being honest.

You stretch out in the sun, arms above your head, lounging by an overgrown area of the pool. It’s a massive sprawling thing that spans the entire resort- long lazy rivers winding through tunnels of gemstone jungle. Converging into larger swimming holes, water constantly moving gently from the waterfalls that tip from the surrounding mountains. It’s a beautiful place, serene and peaceful- and big enough you can barely hear the ruckus the boys are making somewhere off in the distance.

While it isn’t crowded, there’s definitely still people around. Enough that you hope to find a potential bedmate among them. You watch from behind your shades the men that pass, their gazes often lingering on you. You smile at them, unable to help the blush that creeps through you when they scan your body. However, none of them had actually stopped to approach you yet. It’s still early, you tell yourself.

Nami had tried convincing you to take more initiative, but you felt you were doing enough of that waltzing around practically naked as is. You weren’t sure you could take pushing it further without completely melting. Though, with every man that passed, looking without speaking, it shriveled your confidence- just a bit. It doesn’t help that you’re alone now, Nami off hustling at the bar and Robin on a tour of the island’s architecture.

“There you are, beautiful,” a familiar voice calls out.

“Sanji,” you smile, always glad to see him and happy for the way he pulls you from your pitiful thoughts. He’s in his own relaxed resort wear, colorful swim shorts and a bright, thin, open shirt.

He kneels down next to your chair even though he could easily sit in one next to you- offering you a sparkling blue drink, little bits of pineapple garnishing the top. “For you, mademoiselle.”

You sit up, taking the drink from him, fingers brushing as he gives you the cold glass. Sanji watches the way you put the straw between your lips, resting it against your tongue before you purse and suck. “Oh!” you exclaim, taking another sip, “it’s really good! Did you make this?”

“Of course,” he smiles bright, shoulders straightening with your praise.

“Sanji,” you teasingly reprimand, “you know you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“This is relaxing to me,” he responds. “Watching such a pretty girl enjoying something I’ve given her.”

You can’t fight the way your lips tip into a more bashful grin. You’re accustomed to his sweet affirmations, but you are especially primed for it today. Despite the way you’re dressed- and despite the way he lavishes you with praise- you don’t feel so uncomfortable around Sanji. Perhaps because he’s so familiar to you, unlike the other men who walk by.

“You’ve been out here a while,” he notes, grabbing the bottle of lotion under your chair. You’re not sure how he knows that since you’ve barely seen him all morning, but he always seems in tune with these things. “Turn around, princess.”

You do, giving him your back, as you look out over the glistening blue waters. Sanji first gathers your hair where it’d fallen loose, fingers trailing softly against your scalp. His practiced touch gently brushing over the nape of your neck as he collects every wayward strand. A big hand smooths over the crown of your head, the other lifting your locks away from your neck as he reties it. His thumbs massage at the base of your skull for a moment before pulling away. With Sanji, this sort of touch isn’t unusual, but you always find it pleasant.

Sanji’s hands slide together, warming the lotion, before he puts them on your body. You can’t help the contented sigh that escapes you, his big hands completely covering your shoulders. He rubs the lotion into you, fingers working through your tension while he’s there. The warm smell of coconut and sweet pineapple compliment one another as a cool breeze grazes past, shivering over your skin- now more sensitive under Sanji’s ministrations. It feels good, the way his hands always find the spots you need him most. Now, if only you can find someone who could touch you so skillfully in other places. With that thought, your doubt creeps back up again.

“Sanji…” you venture slowly, heart picking up with what you want to ask him.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Do you…” you fidget a bit, but he doesn’t stop his movements. “I mean, you’re a man.”

You can just feel the ghost of his breath against your neck and hear the grin in his voice and as he responds, “I am.”

“Do you think…” you take a deep breath and force the second half of your question, “do you think I’m attractive?”

“Is that even a real question?” he scoffs, “didn’t I tell you earlier what a goddess you look like?” He had. In quite a dramatic fashion when you’d come out to the pool- clutching his heart and nearly dropping to his knees. “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen…” he muses, watching his hands drag over your glistening skin.

You take another sip, his response settles your nerves a bit, but it’s not quite an answer to what you really want to know. “But I mean…” you try to find the right way to phrase yourself, “Like, for real, you know?” Sanji’s hands stop. “If you didn’t know me and you saw me here would you actually be interested in me? As in…” your words falter, the heat rising to your cheeks, “that way.” You hope he knows what way you mean.

Sanji doesn’t know how you could dare ask him that question when his cock has been twitching in his shorts ever since he put his hands on your body. More than that, he doesn’t understand how you could ever doubt how desirable you are. With the way your luscious body lounged out in the sun, the only thing Sanji could think about with every step towards you was how he could barely hold himself back from burying his head between your thighs right here beside the pool.

Your heart thumps in the stretch of silence and regret is heavy in your chest, “sorry. Dumb question, forget I-“

“It’s always real,” he says quickly. “I’ve never lied about what I think.” His hands start roaming your back again and you relax a bit under his touch, some of the anxiety dissipating.

“I know,” you smile, “you just embellish-“

“I don’t,” he interjects. “I’ve always been completely honest.” His thumbs glide up either side of your spine slipping beneath the single thin string that keeps your top on- it'd be nothing for him to snap it. “I don’t think any man could look at you,” Sanji’s palms press flat to your sides, fingers curling over your ribs- just beneath your breasts. Your breath hitches as he drags them slowly down towards your hips, “-and not go mad with wanting you.”

It takes every ounce of Sanji’s strength to take his hands off you. But if doesn’t remove them now, he knows exactly where they’ll be going next. “So don’t you ever worry about that, Princess,” he forces a reassuring smile to his voice, trying to keep the strain of his desire from clouding the comfort he wants to provide you.

“Thanks, Sanji,” you say over your shoulder, feeling a bit better about the whole thing. “You’re right, I shouldn’t doubt myself so much.” You smile and his heart skips. “Nami says I need to take more initiative,” you take the final sip of your drink. “So that’s what I’ll do!” The endearing confidence of your voice stirs him and he takes the glass from your hands, still cool to the touch. You lift your shades and give him a cute little wink, “I’ll see you later!” Then you’re up and walking away from him.

There’s a pang in his chest with every step you take further from him, but- fuck- if his cock doesn’t jump at the sway of your hips, the heavenly curve of your ass on sensual display. When you’re out of sight he runs a hand over your chair, still warm with the divots of your body. He thinks about climbing into it and shoving the hands he just had all over you down into his shorts and fucking himself crazy.

But, he doesn’t. Instead, he stands- walking off and placing your straw into his mouth- aching for even a trace of your taste.

➽──────────────❥

Sanji’s in tiny changing room, a tiny tent with fabric walls that flutter in the breeze. And he’s furiously jerking his cock, your straw gnashed between his teeth. He tried to make it back inside the resort- he really did- but he couldn’t. So, he ran off to the closest secluded place he could find.

It’s not all that private. He can hear people outside, their laughter, their conversations drifting past. Sometimes so close he’s not sure how they can’t hear the wet slap of dripping dick. It probably has to do with the quantity of free drinks flowing through this place. No amount of which could intoxicate him as much as you do.

He’s got both hands on his cock, one working his shaft, the other milking his leaky cockhead. Thick strands of his precum have dripped all the way down to the sand under his feet, darkening it in little pools. He’ll have to bury it before he leaves, but he just can’t help himself from making a mess.

Sanji watches how he fucks his own hands, knowing he just had them on you mere fucking minutes ago. In that slutty little suit he wanted to rip off with his teeth. He’d been so worked up all damn day after peeping on you this morning like the nasty fucking pervert he is, his cum squirting mere inches from your cunt over the two way mirror without you even realizing it.

And you had the fucking gall to ask him if he ‘found you attractive’- even as he sat there feeling you up and leaking in shorts. God, you are so innocent, completely unaware of all the ways he perverts you. If only you could see him now- if only you’d walk in to find him with this dirty cock swollen in his hands, tip redder than a damn dog. Drool pools from his lips and slides down your ruined straw where he’s long since sucked off the taste of you, but not daring to drop it because it had been in your mouth. What he wouldn’t give to know what that feels like.

Sanji bucks his hips into his hands and he imagines it. Imagines you catching him, drawing back the curtain to find him jerking off. You’d step in, quickly closing it behind you. There’s barely enough space for one person here, let alone two- his cock would be bumping up against you with every thrust. He’d hump his cockhead right on your soft tummy, letting his mess slick down your body, soaking into the tiny band of your bottoms.

You’d pull the little triangles that only covered your nipples to the side so he could see them, so pretty and peaked. You’d pull the crotch of your bottoms aside and spread your wet little lips- just like you did this morning.

Sanji spurts his first rope of cum on your tummy then angles the rest to shoot right between your slit, coating your needy little clit. He’d cum and cum, make such a nasty mess all over you while people walked around right outside, completely unaware of how filthy you are standing here covered in him.

Sanji allows himself only a low, quiet groan as he releases into the sand.

➽──────────────❥

It’s a pretty rare occurrence that the crew gets such luxurious shore leave. But, after helping out the little island resort, the owner offered you all a free overnight stay. With all the amenities it had to offer. Which was certainly more than you were used to. Since it was apparently the resort’s “off” season, the owner had no qualms about offering it- even to a group of pirates- in thanks for the help.

You and the other girls had been off the boat faster than Luffy could whine he wanted to go to the next island. You’re pretty sure it was the buffet that made him change his tune. You, Robin, and Nami, however went for a much needed girls’ day around the island. Nami winked as she told both of you she was adjusting your allowances- just don’t tell the boys. The three of you had a blast together, but as the day crept on and your hands got fuller, you decided to take a break and meet back up in a few hours.

Everyone gets their own room- or, at least, gets the option for it. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper are going to have a sleep over. You, however, eagerly snatch up the opportunity to have a space all to yourself. The rooms are separated by twos- a door conjoining each coupled room. For guests with larger groups, the owner had explained. The door connecting your room to Sanji’s is locked, but it doesn’t bother you. The room itself isn’t very big- a bed, a few chairs, a jacuzzi tub that you would definitely be using tonight, and a small connecting bathroom.

You toss your bags onto the bed and kick off your shoes, rifling through all the pretty new things you bought. The three of you were going to meet up at the pool later, so you need to decide which new suit you’re going to wear.

You strip off your clothes and grab the first one. A one piece, low cut with bows tying it together down the sides. Once you’ve got it on, you stand in front of the large mirror fixed to the wall across from your bed. You turn this way and that, admiring the way it looks on you- still just as happy with it as you had been in the shop.

Sanji exits the shower in a cloud of steam, one towel around his waist, the other he’s using to dry his hair. Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks. His smile brightened as he saw you, “Oh, what are you doing here~?” he asks, but you don’t respond. He steps towards you- you’re striking poses in a swimsuit he’s never seen you in before. He was about to compliment how beautiful it made you look when it occurs to him what he’s looking at.

He steps up in front of you and waves his hand, but you don’t acknowledge him at all. He reaches out, hand meeting cool glass. “Oh, shit.” It was a mirror- a two way mirror. He fists his hand to knock on the glass- to alert you to his presence… when you starting stripping the suit off. “Ohh shit,” he breathes, hand hanging in the air.

He should knock. He should definitely knock. No, wait- he should leave. If he knocks now you’ll know he already saw you. He should definitely-

You shimmy out of the suit, your breasts gently bouncing being released form their confinement. Sanji thinks his his heart will burst from his chest the way its pounding. You turn from the mirror, kicking the suit off the rest of the way and Sanji’s eyes are glued to the curve of your ass while you pick out what to try next.

A two piece with ruffly trim. Sanji’s body grows hot as you step towards the mirror- certain you’re going to catch him peeping on you. But you have no idea- you can’t see him at all. You place your hands on your hips and twist your body. One hand gathers up your hair and you flutter your lashes with a little pout that makes his heart flip.

Before you drop it back down with a frown and a shake of your head. It seems you don’t like this one as much. Though, Sanji has no idea why because you look like a divine angel.

You turn away and go back to the pile, stripping once more and tossing it to the side. Sanji’s cock twitches when you bend over low to reach for something on the bed. Straightening, he sees a new suit in your hands that’s nothing but string and a scrap of fabric. His body stirs in anticipation for you to put it on.

The bottoms are scant and show the delicious peak of your ass, but when you turn around- Sanji nearly hits the floor. Little blue triangles are bound tight over your nipples, but leave the gorgeous curves of your breasts mostly free. His eyes dip lower to a width of fabric that wouldn’t even cover the expanse of his palm. He’d never seen you in anything like this before, but it was more delicious than he could have imagined.

His cock twitches against his towel as you step up to the mirror, coming so close that he can see the shape of your nipples through the bikini. It took every ounce of strength not to drop to his knees to get a better view of your cunt. He wonders if he looks hard enough, if he can see the outline of your slit behind them.

Your eyes roam over your own body with a bashful smile. Then your hands follow, fingers trailing over your chest, gently grazing your own nipples. Sanji watches as they peak beneath your fingers and you start caressing them. His hand goes to his stomach, rubbing his own body. Your thighs press together and a small sigh escapes your lips.

“Maybe…” Sanji stills- air escaping his lungs as he hears your pretty voice. He wonders for a moment if you can hear him too, but then remembers he had already tried to call out to you. So clearly not. “Maybe, I could find someone on the island,” you muse to yourself. And as your hands slide lower down your body, so do his. “Just for tonight…” Your fingers slide over your barely concealed cunt and Sanji rubs his hard on through the towel.

If only he could go to you right now. If only he could be the one to give you what you were craving tonight- or hell- every night. He’d drop to his knees in front of you and press his tongue between your legs, lick you through that skimpy little suit. He’d let you use him all night long, however you wanted. He’d make use of every inch of that room and of your body- for hours until you physically couldn’t take it anymore. He’d make you cum more than you ever had in your entire life- he was sure of it. If you just gave him one chance, he’d prove it to you. He wouldn’t disappoint you. He’d be so good-

You moan, hand reaching up to lean against the mirror. Fingers pulling the crotch of your suit to the side and rubbing through your slit. Sanji places his palm against yours through the mirror and takes off his towel.

Precum drips from his cockhead as he strokes himself in time with your movements. When you buck your hips forward, so does he. When you start sliding a finger inside yourself, he rings his fingers and slips his cock through- imagining it was him going inside of you in that moment. You spread your legs a bit wider, trying to push your fingers deeper inside. The furrow of your brow told him you weren’t reaching as deep as you wanted.

But, he could do it. His long expert fingers could slide in to the knuckle and he’d find that sweet spongy spot inside and stroke it until you squirted in his hands. He wonders if you ever have before and his cock twitches with the fantasy of being the one to show you how.

You pull out of your cunt and rub your soaking fingers over your clit. Fast, hard, you work it back and forth- only focusing on reaching that high. Sanji strokes his cockhead fast and hard alongside you, hand slippery with his own precum. He watches your body convulse as the orgasm tears through you and he knows he’ll never forget that look on your face for as long as he lives.

With one last jerk of his cock, he joins you- cum shooting onto the mirror and he just can’t believe there’s only a few inches of space that separates you from being soaked with him.

You press your forehead to the mirror, trying to regain your breath. Sanji leans forward and touches his own forehead to yours through the glass. “Tu es belle,” he breathes and you pull black, blinking. His heart stutters at the confusion on your face as your eyes roam your reflection. Had you heard him?

You shake your head and let out a deep breath, dragging your clean hand down your face. "Just making up what I wanna hear," you mumble. His heart tumbles. Did you want to hear him? Do you imagine his voice?

You go back to the bed and throw yourself onto it, laying amongst the piles of things he was looking forward to seeing you in.

He hopes you’ll model some more for him tonight.

➽──────────────❥

Translation: “Tu es belle,” = You are beautiful.

➽──────────────❥