Archive of Our Own

Sanji prided himself on being honest, most of all with himself. He knew that the constant smoking would catch up with him eventually. His lungs would turn disgustingly black, shriveled, and most of all, useless. He knew that his on-again-off-again "relationship" with you was anything but healthy. But he'd learned to accept both of those facts a long time ago.

Waking up in your bed again (you got a separate room from the other girls because of your constant nightly activities), Sanji cursed under his breath. He quickly put on his clothes, licking his cracking lips. Instantly recognizing the flavor, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. But it was no use. The taste of you still lingered, and he wasn't sure if he could ever get it off. Without giving your sleeping form a second glance, Sanji left your bedroom, praying it would be the last time.

Going outside, Sanji took out a cigarette and his lighter. Taking a puff of smoke, he watched it unfurl and disappear into the crisp dawn air. As he held the cigarette in between his fingers, he looked out into the sunrise. His eyebrows knit together in frustration as he realized just how powerless he was.

"Damn her..."

Sanji knew he'd feel much better if he left you, as opposed to you simply replacing him. Not that that hasn't happened already. Every time the Strawhats docked at a new island, you would be gone every night, coming back only in the early hours of the morning. Everyone knew what you did (except for maybe Luffy, he was oblivious to that kind of stuff). No one spoke of it, though. Every night, you'd come back, makeup smudged, hair tangled, skimpy dress crinkled. Inevitably, you'd walk on board barefoot, sky high heels in your hand. Sanji hated it. Every time he was on night watch and saw you walk back aboard, he felt hollow. He felt cheapened. He knew you just saw him as some replaceable fuck buddy. Despite this, he saw you as so much more. He loved you.

Tonight was another one of those nights. Sanji watched the waves rise and fall, and puffed the umpteenth breath of smoke that day. His lips and mouth still tasted of you, even with all the cigarettes he smoked to try and wash it out. After a while, he heard a noise. Turning around, he saw you, dressed up again, heels clacking against the wooden boards of the ship. This time though, he didn't let you leave.

Sanji pushed you against the wall of your bedroom, hungrily crashing his lips on yours. You instinctively moaned into him, hands tugging his hair while you closed all distance between the two of your bodies.

"Just one last time," Sanji thought. "Then we're done."

He told himself it would be the end because he knew it was impossible for you to love him back. You didn't dress up and sneak off the ship in the middle of the night to be with him. You did it for men you didn't even know yet. You never knew how much it hurt him. And you never would.

Sanji prided himself on being honest, most of all with himself. When his eyes cracked open the next day, he saw you. You were sleeping peacefully, makeup now messily caked across your face. Sanji threw aside the thin sheet that covered him, and dressed himself from the confines of your bedroom as he had so many times before. Striding outside and lighting a cigarette, he knew he couldn't lie to himself anymore. No matter how much he despised it, he knew that was definitely not the last time he would be in your bedroom.