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you hated sanji. hated him in a visceral way, almost as if it were personal.
which is why it was hard to understand why on earth you were bent over his counter, in his kitchen, while sanji was fucking you hard — after he’d already made you come at least twice.
all right, fine. let’s get the facts straight and go back to the beginning.
you had always hated men desperate for women — the kind who fawn over any skirt that walks by. so imagine your surprise when your captain introduced you to the crew, and there he was: the perfect embodiment of everything you wanted to avoid.
it felt like being thrown into a nightmare dressed in a suit and an apron, and it almost made you reconsider whether joining that madness was worth it.
for weeks, you tried to ignore him and simply go along with the journey, reminding yourself of luffy’s generosity — and that this was your crew, after all.
in the end, even sanji was kind — sometimes too kind. but along with that kindness came a certain desperation that turned obvious virtues into an irritating façade, making you avoid him whenever you could.
as things went on, no matter how much you tried not to let it show — to avoid turning your time together into hell — at some point, he truly saw you, all of you, and pulled away.
as the months went by, he grew more distant, colder. not that he treated you badly — that would have been impossible, even under those circumstances — but he went from an unbearable chatterbox to a polite machine with pre-programmed responses. he only offered you things when it was part of serving everyone else. it became nothing more than “good morning,” “good night,” or “thank you” — and nothing beyond that.
until that night.
you’d docked at a rather unusual island — not to say downright strange. as usual, most of the crew went ashore to shop, and this time it ended up being just you and sanji on the ship. you had a headache, and he preferred to pick out the best ingredients during the day, not late in the afternoon, when only the scraps were left.
chopper was an amazing doctor, but sometimes his skills had their limits. even after resting and taking the medicine he had so kindly given you, your head still felt as if someone had set up camp inside your skull with a hammer.
it must have been around six o’clock when you finally left your room — the sun was still hugging the waves in its farewell. it would have been a beautiful end to the day, if you hadn’t been in such a foul mood.
even knowing sanji would be there, you went to the kitchen. you kept repeating to yourself that it would be fine, but the discomfort was already slicking your palms. still, you tried to keep your face impassive as you pushed the door open.
you forced yourself to look neutral as you stepped in. it wasn’t the kind of nerves that hit when someone attractive flirts with you — it was worse: that stifling unease that comes from the presence of someone you’ve been trying to avoid, and who just won’t stop existing near you.
sanji was chopping vegetables, completely focused. fine, maybe he was attractive. the way he moved in the kitchen was genuinely fascinating, and his tall, lean, strong frame didn’t hurt either. he wore one of those blue shirts, buttons undone almost halfway down his chest. the fabric looked light, a little wrinkled, revealing the start of a defined abdomen.
what a waste: a man so skilled with his hands, so physically appealing, turning pathetic the moment he opened his mouth, right?
maybe it was your brain betraying you, or the medication — maybe both. but you couldn’t help thinking you’d even sleep with him if he’d just keep his mouth shut. what would he be like in bed? pathetic there too? begging to fuck you? or would he drop that “gentleman” act and actually fuck you hard?
you gave your head a small shake, brushing the thought away, trying to remind yourself of who he really was — especially when your hormones and months without sex kept pushing you away from reason.
“feeling any better?” sanji’s voice made you glance toward him, though his eyes never left the carrots he was slicing.
you walked over to the cupboard, opening the doors casually. your hands weren’t sweaty anymore, but they were still a little cold. you preferred to believe it was because of the migraine flaring up again, not because of him.
it happened often — nami never missed a chance to joke about it — but you were sure it was just his irritating presence.
“i am. chopper gave me some medicine, but i think it’s just a migraine,” you said, pulling out a jar of tea you kept stored. then you turned to him, giving the jar a small shake and a barely-there smile. “i think it might help more. you mind if i use the kitchen for a few minutes? i promise i’ll be quick.”
he nodded without even looking at you.
you moved over to the stove, ignoring his coldness — something that had already become routine. most women would probably feel offended being ignored by a man as handsome as sanji — of course, if he were being silently sexy like he was now, and not an idiot. but for you, that was perfect.
a few minutes passed, wrapped in an almost comforting silence. the only sounds were the water beginning to bubble and the precise rhythm of sanji’s knife against the cutting board.
without meaning to, your eyes drifted from the tea box, its patterns neat and repetitive, and landed on him — more specifically, on his hands.
you spent a few seconds watching the way sanji chopped the vegetables with an annoyingly graceful precision. you narrowed your eyes slightly, annoyed at yourself for finding it beautiful.
no one could say how long you stood there, staring at him, until his voice snapped you back to reality.
“are you hungry? i can make something if you want.” he finally lifted his head, giving you a gentle look that somehow managed to irritate you all over again.
“no, thanks.” you tried not to sound curt, just uninterested. “i just want the tea.”
right on cue, the water began to boil, the kettle’s whistle pulling you out of your own head. sanji stayed still for a moment, as if about to say something, but then closed his mouth and went back to what he was doing.
you moved quickly, preparing the tea. standing back-to-back with sanji brought a tension no blade of his — no matter how sharp — could ever cut through. your shoulders were tight, your arms stiff with the almost-touch between your bodies, creating a thick, torturous charge in the air around you.
for a few moments, while the water steeped the tea bag, you found yourself tangled in your own thoughts. it was terrible not understanding what the hell you were feeling. anger, yeah — that had to be it. what bothered you was that no anger you could remember had ever come with such a strong urge to fuck someone.
did he feel the same? did sanji think about fucking you?
no, impossible. well, maybe possible — but not the way you wanted. sanji was known to fall hopelessly for just about anyone. clearly, you’d be just another one in his bed.
just the thought of that sent a sick feeling rising in your throat — uncomfortable as those thoughts were.
then suddenly, sanji appeared behind you. first, his long, strong arm reached over your head, grabbing something from a cabinet. right after, you felt his presence — closed off and tense, different from how he acted around the other women. it was more like the vibe he gave off next to zoro — the one he constantly traded barbs with and clearly hated.
he smelled like cigarettes mixed with nutmeg — a warm scent that wrapped around you in that moment, making you close your eyes for a second.
remembering where — and with whom — you were, you quickly turned, almost knocking the hot cup into your own hand. the surprise made him step back a bit, but he was still close enough for that scent to keep... sinking into you.
and it wasn’t the only thing you wanted inside you.
fuck it. this was definitely the worst, most torturous pms — or sex deprivation — you’d ever had. seriously. what a humiliation.
“what are you doing, sanji?” you frowned at him. it annoyed you how easily he could unravel you with so little effort.
“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, just wanted to grab the seasoning.” his voice was low, almost a whisper.
he turned his face away, trying not to bite his lip. his voice was really sensual, nice to hear — it made you imagine what other pathetic sounds he might make.
you almost wanted to shove a knife down your own throat for thinking that. but honestly? that was all you had left for that weird night: the urge to sleep with someone you said you hated.
“okay,” you said, grabbing the tea, ready to leave the kitchen. maybe nami was right. maybe your hatred wasn’t exactly what you thought. maybe. maybe. maybe.
“wait.” he touched your arm so gently you were caught off guard. “can i ask you something?”
you turned around, trying to hide any reaction — irritation, nervousness, whatever. it wouldn’t be fair to take it out on sanji just because he was in the same room as you.
“why... why do you hate me so much?” he asked, frowning with an expression you recognized as shame.
usually, sanji was pathetic — but not like that. you weren’t being mean, just honest. he had this awful habit of... well, humiliating himself. but right then, in that moment, he seemed different. like he was really digging deep into his own mind, like he needed to get it all out at once.
you frowned too. even trying not to show it, it was impossible in the space you shared — and sanji was smart enough to notice certain things.
he moved closer but still kept a safe distance. your bodies were face to face, just millimeters apart.
putting the tea down on the counter, you crossed your arms, thinking of a reply. it was kind of hard — he was very much there. a bit taller, pretty strong. his presence was constant, undeniable.
looking away, you tried to follow your own thoughts. there was no dodging it; at some point you two had to have this talk. it was confusing too. maybe even you, despite having a plausible reason, didn’t fully get why his presence bothered you so much.
the explanation you had started to fade at some point — the moment your mind made you consider some not-so-appropriate thoughts.
you took a deep breath, already had something ready to say, but sanji didn’t let you. his hand landed on the counter, right next to your tea, and he leaned toward you. there was care and a certain hesitation in his movements — not something you’d expect from the sanji you knew.
“hit me, yell, or just stop talking to me if i’m wrong, but i don’t think you really hate me,” he whispered, “and i really want to be wrong, but at the same time, i don’t.”
you opened your mouth, ready to snap back, but nothing came out. he was too close, his scent and the feel of his body so near yours hitting your nerves. it was like you were frozen — caught in your own lie, like a kid busted doing something wrong.
quickly, yet painfully slow, his fingers brushed your waist. his touch felt like fire spreading through your body, lighting something up inside you immediately.
“sanji…” your voice came out rougher than you wanted.
he closed the distance even more, his warm breath mixing with yours. “tell me to stop if you don’t want this, i’ll do whatever you ask.”
oh.
it hit you like a punch to the gut. you knew you should tell him to stop. you knew you hated desperation, that the reasons played in your head like a mantra every damn day — but you just couldn’t. none of that mattered when you felt him so close, his touch burning enough to almost intoxicate you. his skin golden in the late afternoon light, his big hands anchored on your hips — that’s what mattered.
there was no sweetness in the kiss. it couldn’t be.
it was urgent and overwhelming, like a heated fight over who’d give in first. as for sanji, you didn’t know, but you weren’t ready to give up yet. gripping his shirt, you felt the buttons scratch the palm of your hand as you pulled him closer, wanting to fuse your bodies even more and hold on to that good feeling.
sanji groaned low against your mouth, making your whole body shiver. your back hit the counter, his hands sliding down your waist to the hem of your shirt. when his fingers touched your bare skin, you arched, letting out a sigh that was anything but hate.
he kept kissing you while his fingers traced down your shirt, slowly undoing the buttons. your mouths parted, and he started kissing your neck, leaving light bites that made you moan without meaning to.
“your voice is so beautiful… i’ve always wondered what it would be like to hear you moan my name.” his voice came out rough.
“you’re gonna have to try a lot harder if you want to hear your name from my mouth, sanji.” you growled, even though you were trembling inside.
he kissed damn well. really well. sanji smiled and pulled you closer again, guiding you back until your hips hit the counter and he made you sit.
“and i can do whatever i want? i thought you hated me… you’re gonna give in that easily?” his fingers played between your breasts as he finished undoing your shirt, the fabric slipping open on your shoulders, leaving you exposed through the thin layer of your bra, making you frown in pleasure.
sanji deliberately pressed against you and you felt his hard erection. it took more willpower than you thought you had not to touch it, not to find out just how big he really was.
you leaned closer to his mouth, pulling him by his messy collar until his lips were near.
“yeah… maybe i will. but there’s a catch: you’ll have to fuck me really well, then i’ll think about hating you a little less. and don’t even think i’m gonna beg for it. fuck me… prove that you can.”
he smiled and slid his fingers along your neck — but didn’t squeeze. pulling you in, he kissed you with even more desire than before. it hurt to admit it, but feeling his cock pressing against your thigh was driving you crazy. again, you had to hold yourself back from ripping his clothes off and taking him as many times as you could.
one kiss and your confusion melted into a single thought: you were completely dizzy from the mix of scents and sensations sanji was giving you right then.
sanji stopped kissing you again and trailed his lips down your back, where your blouse was slightly open, leaving warm kisses that spread across your skin like a gentle fever, but with a deeper, visceral heat.
you watched him follow the trail of kisses until he was on his knees between your legs.
sanji lifted his eyes to you, his face close to your covered pussy. that look was clear and obvious: he wanted you without that piece of clothing. you lifted your hips on the counter, waiting for him to pull it off completely, but his hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, removing only your panties while a cheeky smile appeared on his lips.
when he finally took them off, he slipped them into his pocket.
damn, what a bastard. you hated that wicked smile of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
there was another hint of a smile when sanji brought his face closer to your intimacy, while his hands pulled you to the edge of the counter but held you firmly. he was pretty tall and the counter wasn’t that high, so it was easy for him to do whatever he wanted in that moment.
you first felt his tongue, warm and soft, sliding over your folds. he took one hand off your waist and gently slid his fingers between them, spreading you open, then slid his tongue again, this time with more confidence. he pulled a sigh from you, then a moan, and soon after, more and more.
it was impossible not to grab his blond strands while he ate you like an act of worship. he started slow, testing the waters, but when he got a positive response, he began devouring you. his tongue slid over you and his fingers massaged your clit—every touch hitting your nerves, pulling guttural moans from deep inside you.
by then, your voice was louder than you wanted, but it was impossible not to moan while he was eating you so well. your climax was building deep inside, spreading along with the fluid sanji eagerly took in. every second, you felt closer to release; after so long without sex, getting that kind of attention was inevitable.
the bastard knew exactly how to eat you out, that was undeniable. at least his big mouth was good for something.
“oh, sanji, fuck... this is so good, please don’t stop... i’m gonna come,” you moaned.
then he stopped massaging your clit and started sliding his fingers inside you. he began with just one, which pulled a heavy sigh from you, then added another.
“so wet... my dick’s gonna slide into you so easy. i can’t wait to fuck you, you know?” he said, looking at you. there was so much lust in his eyes that you suddenly became aware of the situation, a faint wave of embarrassment creeping in.
his blue eyes were deep, ocean-like, holding you there while you stayed between his legs, unable to look away from him.
sanji pushed his fingers deeper, the rhythm becoming more deliberate, and you arched into him with a sharper moan each time.
when you lifted your head again, he was no longer on his knees but closer to you, his body pressing into your space while his fingers kept working you without pause. you were so close to coming that tears gathered in your eyes, your thoughts slipping further out of focus with every second.
suddenly, sanji kissed you again, this time with more hunger. he ran his tongue over your lips while holding your face, and still didn’t slow the movement of his fingers.
when he pulled away, he looked almost as undone as you felt, but his presence alone was enough to make your head spin.
“looks like i’ll have to focus on fucking and shutting you up at the same time,” he said, curling his fingers inside you — hitting your most sensitive spot with such precision it made the world around you disappear.
there was no ship, no people who might walk in and see you half-naked with your legs over him — just your heavy breathing, your almost-breaking moans, and the black-and-white flashes you now saw as shooting stars.
the orgasm hit you full force like a warm, glowing wave of pure euphoria. from your core outward, your body trembled as spasms shook your thighs, radiating from deep inside and pulsing around his fingers — now slick with you.
suddenly, sanji pulled away — but kept his fingers inside you. breathless, you watched him lower his head again, his eyes locked on yours before he slid them out and gripped your thighs, pressing them against his hips, spreading you wider.
he went back to eating you out, focused now on pulling you through your first orgasm. you were still catching your breath, so the sensation dragged you right back into it.
you barely had time to recover. your first climax still pulsed through your body as sanji showed no mercy, licking and sucking every sensitive spot.
“sanji… i… can’t…” you gasped, but the words broke into a long moan as another wave hit. your body clenched around nothing, arching as the second orgasm ripped through you in sharp pulses.
his hands held you down as your breath hitched, your whole body shaking, each contraction pulling another sound from you until the tension melted into a heavy heat spreading through your muscles and the air around you.
by then, there wasn’t a trace of hate left in you. the pleasure was so overwhelming you couldn’t think about anything else — not even the reasons you were supposed to hate sanji.
he was good at this. good at shutting your thoughts down, leaving you with nothing but that warm, scattered feeling flooding your body.
he stood up, smiling. tousled blond hair, his chin and face still marked with you. sanji opened a nearby drawer and wiped himself off, never taking his eyes off you.
“still hate me?” he asked low, voice rough.
“yeah. a lot.” you panted, still coming down from it.
“so should i keep going? you moan so damn well for someone who hates me. looks like i’m gonna have to fuck you until you forget that.”
you furrowed your brows — unsure if from pleasure or frustration — and pulled him closer. once again, your sex met his hardness. he closed his eyes, clearly just as affected as you.
“oh yeah?” you whispered. “with all this hate i’ve got, you’re gonna have to fuck me a lot, cook.”
that was enough. sanji grabbed you, lifting you off the counter and turning you around. you gave in to the sudden force, letting out a short moan.
then he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, giving a few slow thrusts in the air. when you looked at him, you couldn’t help but notice the size — long, not too thick, slightly curved. you wanted him inside you. no more waiting.
“like what you see?” he asked, catching your gaze.
“i’d like it more if you stopped hesitating and just fucked me already. or are you gonna tell me you gave up?” you shot back.
sanji thrust a few times, lifted your skirt higher, and slapped your ass, making you gasp. damn him. he rubbed his cock against your pussy, gathering the wetness still there, then pushed back inside you. just the feeling of him sliding in made you moan louder than expected, arching your back on the counter.
then he lined himself up at your entrance and slowly began to slide in, stretching you out. even after cumming twice already, it was still hard to take him. he was thicker than you’d imagined just by looking.
“oh shit, so tight... you’re so damn good,” he groaned, closing his eyes and gripping your hips tightly.
once he was fully inside, he paused for a few seconds before starting to thrust hard — but not violently. the kitchen became the stage for the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding, his cock hitting all the right spots, making you see stars again.
you lifted your hips, trying to help him reach that spot. sanji got it immediately, holding you tight as he pounded harder, chasing his own orgasm.
his cock stretched your walls beautifully, and you felt like you were in heaven. his moans were delicious, and you were overwhelmed with pleasure. you buried your face in your arms, trying not to moan louder, but it was impossible.
before long, another orgasm built inside you. your legs trembled and your muscles contracted softly — a total contrast to the firm thrusts you were receiving.
then sanji, with gentle strength, tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled your face toward his. his movements were calm, even while fucking you hard.
“look at me while you come,” he said in a husky voice, keeping his rhythm. you felt every inch of his cock hitting all the right spots, making you roll your eyes in ecstasy.
“damn, you’re so beautiful,” he moaned again, almost purring.
“fuck you, sanji,” you said, your body tensing against his.
“fucking you sounds a lot more interesting.”
screw him.
another climax hit you — even stronger than the first two. your legs trembled harder, your abdomen contracted, spilling your release, and you didn’t even care.
“that’s it, come for me. you’re so beautiful coming on my cock. i’m gonna make you come on it every time,” sanji’s voice came out low, almost breathless in your ear. “ah, yeah… i’m close… fuck.”
in moments, he came too. sanji pulled out and spilled over your thighs, coating you with his release.
when you finally came down from your high, sanji was already cleaning you up. once he finished, you stood up and noticed you’d stained his pants all over. it would be hard to explain that to whoever did the laundry that week.
you slid off the counter and sat on the floor. sanji sat across from you, still completely messy.
“what are you thinking about?” he broke the silence.
“that was better than i expected.”
he smiled at that. “but you’re still a complete idiot. and that was the first and last time. besides, i need to get out of here and shower before everyone arrives. and we gotta clean up this mess. what about you? what’s on your mind?”
“that you look prettier when you come than when you’re hating me.”
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. sanji stood up and held out his hand, which you took. then he told you to sneak out the back.
luckily, no one saw you. half an hour later, the others arrived — enough time for sanji to get himself together and tidy the kitchen.
dinner got kinda awkward after that, and it wasn’t the last time you two hooked up.
sometimes, hating someone was kinda nice. at least it brought amazing orgasms and a decent dinner afterwards.