Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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“You idiot! That’s not the right one!”

“What’re you talking about? You said grab the one in black. I got you the one in black. What’s the problem here?”

“Back. I said get the one in the back.”

“Oh… which one was that?”

Sanji slowly worked his teeth against the thick rope strung between his lips as the harsh whispers played over his ears and wished, not for the first time that day, that he could see the bastards who’d had the fucking audacity to kidnap him. When he’d first awoken, he’d thought he was just sitting in a room with no windows or doors to let in the daylight. It didn’t take him long to discount that theory as he’d registered the familiar feeling of rough burlap wound around and around his eyes, effectively rendering him temporarily blind.

“Well what the hell d’ya want me to do about it now? Take him back? I barely got away from that sword swinging maniac the first time. Don’t think I’m quite ready to try that again.”

“Nah, this one might be okay. He’s not too hard on the eyes, actually.”

A low flame of irritation flickered in his gut as the two men continued to speak as if he wasn’t sitting right there in front of them, discussing him as if he were no more than a pack horse you’d buy at the market.

He experimentally flexed his arms against the rope lashing them across his chest, crossed at the wrists. Though he was loathe to admit it, and still only did so bitterly, whoever had done all the bindings knew their stuff.

With no daylight visible to help him keep track of the time, Sanji couldn’t say how long he’d been fighting against the ropes, searching for a weak point to break through. He’d been at it long enough that his wrists were already chafed and raw from turning this way and that against the coarse ropes. It hadn’t even been worth the pain as the ropes held firm no matter how he contorted his body.

God, what a shit day this was turning out to be.

It was just supposed to be a brief stop on the island to restock their food supply and replenish the Cola barrels necessary for the Sunny’s greater features. Shouldn’t have taken more than half a day.

But then again, when was anything the Straw Hats ever did easy or simple?

Everyone minus the girls and Brook had gone ashore to help haul the foodstuffs back to the ship while the others had stayed with the Sunny, anchored a a little ways off from the main port so as not to draw attention to their Jolly Roger.

It had been Franky who spotted them first.

Their crude weapons and sorry attempts at menacing glowers marked them as nothing more than simple bandits. Hungry ones, if the way they’d been eyeing the food was any indicator. Sanji had instantly written them off as a threat, inserting himself in front of Chopper and Usopp who had automatically shrank back at the first sight of trouble.

The ensuing fight went exactly as Sanji had expected it to, the Straw Hats easily taking the upper hand and dispatching the group with well practiced ease. That is until one of the bandits, who they must’ve waltzed right past earlier as they’d headed for the ship, fired a shot from high in the trees.

Sanji hadn’t thought anything of it when he’d heard the gun go off, but his head whipped around faster than a striking cobra when Usopp’s voice shrieked out a cry of pain. The sniper’s name was shouted in horror from five different mouths as he’d gracelessly crumbled to the beach’s hot sand.

The cook had made quick work of the ring of bandits that had enclosed him, flipping onto his hands and spinning on his palms while his heels dealt out blow after devastating blow.

Luffy had reached Usopp first, his face blanching at the sheer amount of blood oozing between the crevices of Usopp’s fingers where they were clamped over his right thigh. Usopp himself was rapidly losing color, too shocked by the wound to spew any of his usual baloney that accompanied almost every cut or bruise he earned in a fight.

Their captain’s hands had hovered over his friend’s leg, desperate to help but not having a clue where to start. Sanji had slid to his knees next to the pair, yanking off his belt and hurriedly pushing Luffy aside in one smooth motion. Deft fingers had quickly fastened the belt around the top of Usopp’s thigh as Chopper finally reached them, hooves sliding in the sand as he came to a sudden halt.

“Usopp!!” Chopper had cried in a panic. “Ah! He needs a doctor!”

It only took Sanji saying the little reindeer’s name firmly once before Chopper froze and the realization struck him. “It’s me; I’m the doctor.”

The bandits were closing back in, converging on the little group gathered in the sand without regard to their fallen comrade.

Sanji and Luffy had engaged them readily, fists and legs flying with lethal ferocity, only pausing long enough to listen as Chopper had cried out to Luffy to get him and Usopp back to the ship.

“I can’t treat him here and he doesn’t have a lot of time!”

Sunny was gently rocking with the waves a little ways out from the beach, the group having taken one of her rowboats to reach the island earlier that morning. She was far enough that the Straw Hats could make a quick getaway if needed, but close enough for Luffy to reach her railing to rocket back to the deck, which is exactly what he did.

With Chopper in Heavy Point holding Usopp against his chest with one arm and tightly looped around Luffy’s chest with the other, Luffy had slung his arms forward until his hands secured a grip on Sunny’s railing.

“Zoro, Franky, Sanji–– get back to the Sunny as fast as you can! We’re getting out of here.”

Then the three had rocketed off over the waves, leaving scattered bandits and blood-stained sand in their wake.

By nature, the three Straw Hats left on the beach were not ones to ever run or back down from a fight. But captain’s orders are captain’s orders.

With a few well placed kicks, Sanji had cleared the area in front of him from assailants and began his charge towards the water.

Franky had fallen into step along side him a moment later, Zoro bringing up the rear a split second after. All in all, there couldn’t have been more than six or seven bandits left standing after the fight, but all six (or seven) of them followed the pirates into the water, abandoning their heavy brutish weapons on the beach in favor of speed.

Zoro swam a ways off to Sanji’s right while Franky, having used the last of his Cola for a quick burst of speed, had almost reached Sunny.

Powerful kicks propelled Sanji forward through the water at a relatively quick pace, worry for his injured friend lending an additional speed to his strokes.

Looking back at the moment now, he curses himself (and maybe Usopp a little too) for being so distracted by the thought of his crew mate possibly bleeding out on the ship to notice that one of the bandits had managed to catch up with him.

It wasn’t until the shitty swordsman had alerted him with a cry of “Oi, Cook!” that Sanji noticed the man next to him, grinning at the blond with a mouthful of horrifyingly sharp teeth.

Sanji had barely a second to lift his leg beneath the water in preparation to kick the man away when he had suddenly been dragged below the surface.

Immediately, Sanji had tucked both knees up to his chest before launching his feet at the man’s chest, but the bandit’s grip on his jacket was terrifyingly strong. The attack that was meant to separate the two of them instead resulted in both of them plunging deeper towards the seabed.

The cook had brought his leg back up for another shot, but again was thwarted before he got the chance. In an alarming display of speed and strength, the bandit had yanked Sanji in close to him and smashed his fist against the side of Sanji’s neck.

At first, Sanji had thought it was nothing more than an insanely strong punch, but then his brain recognized the pinch of a needle buried deep into muscle and the agonizing burn of a drug escaping into his bloodstream.

He tried to renew his attack with vigor, the severity of the situation not lost on him, but whatever the barbaric man had injected him with worked with unfair swiftness.

In three seconds flat, the edges of Sanji’s vision began to darken, the strength in the muscles of his arms and legs flagging and failing to respond to his brain’s desperate signals to get him the hell out of there.

There was a horrifying moment when Sanji realized that his only attempt at escape now was for that directionally challenged swordsman to rescue his ass. He’d briefly acknowledged that he’d rather drown than have that before realizing that if he drowned, who was going to be responsible for feeding his darling Nami-san and precious Robin-chan? He flat out refused to have them go hungry. He’d rather give his own life than have that.

But at the time, the decision hadn’t been his. Before he’d known it, he was sinking.

No, that wasn’t right.

He was being dragged away from the surface, lungs valiantly fighting to keep what precious little oxygen they had left in them as the weight of the sea pressed down on him.

The last thing Sanji removed seeing in his rapidly declining vision had been a headful of pale green hair and a tanned hand outstretched to snag his.

But it was too far, too late.

When Sanji awoke, blindfolded, gagged, and all but strapped to a wall, he didn’t know how much time had passed between that moment and now. His skin and hair were dry, so it had at least been a while since the beach, but how long that “while” was, Sanji wish he knew.

As he’d sat alone in the darkness, the blond had tried to piece together what he did know.

It was quiet; void of the sound of lapping waves and bird calls, so they weren’t on the sea. But neither was there the sound of buzzing insects or snuffling beasts searching for food, so it wasn’t likely they were in the forest either.

When he’d slapped his (bare) feet against the cool the ground (those fuckers had taken his boots), the sound hadn’t reverberated too loudly. Sanji guessed that it was a cell of some kind, but quite spacious, not that he could get up and check.

While there were ropes between his teeth and around his arms, his waist was encircled with thick links of heavy chain. Around his neck was a band of metal, secured to the wall behind him with that same sturdy chain, only giving him enough room to crane his head away from the wall a mere two inches.

But his legs…the idiots had left his legs free.

And thank god for that. At least one thing was going his way today.

“He is kinda pretty,” one of the voices said gleefully. “Did you see his eyebrows? They’re swirly. And his hair is actually pretty soft.”

And what the hell was that about? When and why had that man been touching his hair?

“Stop it, Keiji. I know that look,” the second voice drawled. “You know the rules.”

Rules?? What rules? Rules about what?

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But it was me who almost died hauling him in here. I should get first dibs. Just saying.”

Sanji’s brain supplied the image of a leathery face full of jagged yellow teeth. That must’ve been this “Keiji”, the one responsible for drugging and kidnapping him.

Okay, Sanji thought, that bastard gets it first.

“Whatever,” the other man dismissed with a click of his tongue. “Let’s get him ready. Yoshio should be back soon.”

A metallic jingle that Sanji instantly recognized as keys rang out, followed by the sound of a lock being released, further confirming the cook’s theory of him being in a cell of some sort. The door’s hinges must’ve been well oiled because there was no other indicator that the cell had been opened than the sound of heavy heeled boots approaching.

Sanji carefully to the steps, dissecting their gait and tread. Both men walked heavily, ploddingly, like they either were carrying a lot of weight or weighed a lot themselves. The time in between in step was longer than average, so Sanji ascertained that they were most likely quite tall.

This whole situation would be so much simpler if he weren’t fucking blindfolded, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that right now.

For now, he needed to stay calm and figure out a way to get rid of these two buffoons.

Slowly, he curled both legs up to his chest, hoping that it gave off the appearance that he was backing away from them and not that he was preparing to attack.

The footsteps stopped just shy of him. There was a slight gust of air from what Sanji assumed was one of them crouching down in front of him.

He flinched as his chin was suddenly grasped between the calloused, and no doubt grimy, fingers of the man’s hand. A low growl rose in his throat as the thumb of the other hand slipped into his mouth above the rope, lifting his lip and inspecting his teeth.

Sanji whipped his head harshly to the right, effectively dislodging both of those disgusting hands from his face.

“Ohoho, you’re a little spitfire, ain’t ya?” The man chuckled.

With a split second’s calculation based off the distance the man’s voice had come from and how close he would’ve had to be to grab Sanji like that, the cook flicked his right leg straight up, satisfaction twisting his features gruesomely around the rope gag as his foot nailed the target.

“Kin!” Keiji cried in shock as his comrade fell back with a scream, clutching at his bleeding mouth as he scrambled away from the cook.

“Bastard!” Kin spat thickly, his voice a good distance away now.

Oh how Sanji wished he could see the indignant look he just knew was painted over the man’s face. However, his satisfaction quickly turned to disappointment as he realized that the strike hadn’t incapacitated the man like he had hoped.

He cautiously lowered his foot back to the floor, poised for another strike at any moment.

But he never got the chance.

With the same speed that had gotten Sanji into this mess in the first place, Kin was back on him, one hand fisted into the cook’s blond hair, yanking his head to the side to further expose his neck. And before Sanji could so much as protest, a needle was shoved into his neck for the second time that day.

A hiss escaped around the gag as the drug instantly started to burn, his arms and legs turning into noncompliant stone once again as the medication circulated in his system.

But where his consciousness leeched away earlier in a matter of moments, this time he was left unnervingly aware, trapped in a paralyzed body with no control of the situation around him.

The hand gripping at his hair relaxed, sliding down to cradle his face instead.

Kin chuckled darkly as he smoothed his thumb over the crest of Sanji’s cheekbone. “There you are, pet. That’s not so bad is it?”

Sanji wanted to yell, scream, that yes it was that bad and to get his grubby hands off of him immediately.

“Keiji, go grab those leg shackles. Looks like we’re going to need them,” Kin chuckled again, thumb moving to brush over Sanji’s lips instead.

Cold, sickening dread was starting to pool in Sanji’s gut. There was something so disturbingly off about this guy’s behavior, about both of the mens’ to be honest. The way they talked, calling him pretty, giving him pet names, the nauseatingly gentle touch–– it was almost like they…like they….

Sanji swallowed heavily.

Let’s not jump to conclusions. That’s not what’s happening here, he told himself, putting a stop to that train of thought before it went too far. But even he didn’t believe that for himself.

He forced himself to refocus as retreating footsteps hustled from the room. Sanji knew he had little time left before his only weapon to break free with was going to be taken from him. Internally, he screamed at his legs to move, pleaded with his muscles to rally for one last strike, strained against what felt like the weight of all four oceans pressing down upon him.

But for all his efforts, the most he was rewarded with was a meager twitch of his left great toe.

Sanji tried to force himself to breath deeply, trying to force down the panic he’d kept suppressed since that very first injection, but it seemed the drug had control over his lungs as well. His breathing short and shallow, air never quite sufficiently filling his lungs before being forced back out.

“Shh shh shh, don’t try to fight it,” Kin whispered. Was his voice closer than before? “You’re just going to make yourself feel worse. Now hold still,” he said unnecessarily, as if Sanji had a choice in the matter.

Then to Sanji’s utter horror, the bandit leaned in close to Sanji’s still exposed neck and took a deep whiff. Nausea roiled in his gut as Kin hummed contentedly, low and guttural.

“Ya know,” he whispered, breath hot against the cook’s neck, “most pirates we get are truly filthy. Haven’t bathed in weeks, hair and ears full of mud and dirt, bodies spoiled by the wench of the week from whatever port they land in. But you…”

Kin was practically purring. The fine hairs on Sanji’s neck and arms were raised in alarm, everything within him screaming to get away, to run. But no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t fucking move.

“…you’re different. You smell like,” Kin paused to take another lungful in of Sanji’s scent, “tobacco and… what is that?”

Sanji’s heart stuttered as Kin licked a stripe up his neck. His rough and slimy tongue dragging from collarbone to jaw, even passing over the metal collar still secure around the blond’s neck. And despite the paralytic coursing strongly through Sanji’s blood, his visceral horror was stronger.

His body heaved, bucking away from the wall as he gagged violently, skin feeling as if it had been drenched in ice water, his body beginning to shake with fine tremors as Kin laughed. Laughed. As if this was nothing more than some twisted joke between friends.

“Aw c’mon, you’re gonna hurt my feelings!”

But Sanji couldn’t find it within himself to give a single shit about the man’s feelings. He was so far beyond rational thinking anymore. He had one focus and one focus only: escape.

Exactly how he was going to make that happen, Sanji had no idea in hell, but it was nonnegotiable at this point.

“If you thought that was bad, just you wait till Yoshio gets back and has his fun with you. Oho, you’ll be begging to stay with me then.”

The sound of rattling chains filtered in beneath Kin’s threatening words, signifying Keiji’s return with the requested leg shackles. Sanji felt his heart sink all way through his stomach, out his butt, and smash into the floor below. His window of escape was gone. The second those shackles were placed on his ankles, that was it. Without sufficient room to build up power, there was no way Sanji would be able to break those chains. His kicks would be as useless as the day he first tried to imitate Zeff’s moves.

A demon of despair was closing its cruel black hands over his heart, making it difficult to breathe. This shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a Straw Hat Pirate for god’s sake. Black Leg Sanji of the Straw Hat crew, with legs strong enough to break stone, crack skulls, and the culinary skills to woo the hearts of all the ladies.

He was not some weakling who allowed himself to be drugged into submission, chained up in some rat hole of a cell needing to be saved.

He was supposed to be stronger than this.

“Leave those for a moment, Keiji,” Kin called back to the man re-entering the room. “We’ll have to put the ones upstairs on him in a minute anyway.”

Keiji huffed, “So what did you have me go get these for?”

For the first time that night, Sanji was thankful for the blindfold so he didn’t have to see Kin’s expression as the man slid his hand back up into Sanji’s hair, letting his head droop listlessly to the side, only kept partially upright by the short length of chain attached to the wall.

It became increasingly more difficult to draw breath, the collar digging into his windpipe as his head sagged, unable to hold it up properly himself.

If either Kin or Keiji noticed, they didn’t so much as lift a finger to help, instead having some trivial argument about who’s turn it was to carry the prisoner upstairs. Asphyxiation was causing Sanji’s heartbeat to roar in his ears, fast and hard it pounded against his eardrums. He was struck with a wave of dizziness, abruptly feeling as if he were sitting on the Sunny’s duck as she rolled and bucked in a particularly vicious storm.

The two bandits’ words were swallowed up by the roaring in his ears, their meaning and speech all together incomprehensible as Sanji felt himself slipping back into the realm of unconsciousness.

Then, at the very last second, the pressure against Sanji’s throat evaporated as he slumped to the side completely, boneless and helpless to stop his descent.

Thick, meaty hands caught him up and crushed him into something that resembled a hug, but wasn’t quite right. His head flopped backwards over a sweat-slicked arm, knees scraping the floor in a half kneeling half risen stance. It was awkward and uncomfortable and Sanji mentally swore again over the stolen control of his body.

“You okay there, little bunny?”

Keiji swept his limp body up into his arms. Sanji had never wanted more to become one with the earth than he did right then. Mortification flashed across his skin, quick and hot, pooling unpalatably in his mouth.

How long was this damn drug going to fucking last? He wondered despairingly. He didn’t know how much more of this his manly heart could take.

And Sanji knew– he knew– that this was the least of his concerns right now, all things considered. But it was still a significant wound to his pride that he was being carried bridal style out of a cell to, what Kin had described to be, a worser fate than what had already happened in that cell.

Sanji distantly noted that Keiji was still talking to him, keeping up an endless stream of chatter that Sanji didn’t care to tune in to. His mind was too busy coming up with potential escape plans. How many people did he need to take out? Was he still on the island they’d landed on for supplies this morning? Who was this Yoshio they kept talking about? Is that who they were taking him to see? What did–

His train of thought was rudely interrupted as he was abruptly deposited on top of something soft and bouncy that creaked noisily under his weight. A bed, Sanji noted uneasily.

Firm hands rolled him over onto his back, using the ropes still crisscrossing his chest to adjust his position. Then one of the hands slipped behind his head and raised it enough for a set of deft fingers to untie the rope splitting his lips apart. The second it was worked free and the rough gag was removed, Sanji drew breath to hurl as much verbal abuse as he could possibly muster, full of words he would never dare let fall on the ears of the lovely Nami-san and delicate Robin-chan.

Before he even got the chance a new material was slipped between his teeth and knotted tightly at the back of his head. Plenty of experience with the fabric clued him in that it was made of silk, infinitely softer than the rope, but still unpleasant when shoved in his mouth like that.

If it weren’t for that stupid blindfold, he would’ve been glaring daggers through his captor’s soul. Not that the blindfold was stopping him from trying. Maybe it he glared hard enough, it would spontaneously burst into flames, burning away for him to finally get a good look at the bastards who dared pull this stunt with him.

“Has anyone told you that you smell nice?” Keiji’s voice rumbled above him. It sounded like the bastard was smiling.

“That’s what I said!” Kin’s voice chimed from a distance.

Keiji went about the rest of his work quickly.

The collar around Sanji’s neck was reattached to a different length of chain, this one seemingly much longer than the last. Chilly metal was looped around his ankles, two circlets on each side, while the chain encircling his waist was removed entirely.

It was only at that moment that something occurred to Sanji so abruptly and so obviously that he wondered how he missed it in the first place.

90% of his clothing was missing. He’d been relieved of his suit jacket, blue button up shirt, and his tie. The socks had been taken with the boots, he’d known about that. The belt usually strung around his hips had been removed by himself earlier in an attempt to staunch Usopp’s bleeding.

Oh god Usopp.

Was he okay? There had been so much blood earlier. Could any one survive that? Well, he was pretty sure Zoro had been forcibly relieved of his own blood supply on that awful day in Thriller Bark. But that was different. That was Zoro, who regularly suffered life threatening wounds and chose to take a nap and exercise his muscles to the point of collapse rather than take care of himself.

This was Usopp he was talking about.

And Sanji didn’t think of Usopp as feeble or weak by any means. In terms of physique and pain tolerance alone, Sanji didn’t know if Usopp was built to sustain such a great wound.

But no matter how much his heart ached for his friend and feared for his life, Sanji knew that the situation was being handled by the best doctor there was around.

“So you are my gift,” a new voice murmured.

Sanji started at the unexpected proximity of the voice.

He’d been so caught up in his worry over the eccentric sniper that he hadn’t noticed the man’s entry.

Dammit, Sanji, get it together.

A low creak emitted from the bed frame as the mattress dipped with additional weight.

“My my.” The voice was closer now; Sanji could practically feel the man’s breath on his face. “They said you were a looker, but they didn’t say you looked this good.”

Sanji felt feverish, skin vacillating between hot and cold as dread and horror fought for dominance in his stomach. He flinched as hand grasped his right elbow, slowly running up his arm, over the swell of his shoulder, up his neck and coming to rest in the shorter hairs gathered at the nape of his neck.

With a strong tug, Sanji’s torso was lifted free from the mattress and for the second time that day, an unwanted nose was pressed into the crook of his neck, the man inhaling deeply like someone just rescued from drowning might take their first breath of air.

“Ohhhh that’s good,” he sighed.

Saliva was beginning to pool hot and heavy in Sanji’s mouth, stomach ready to heave out its entire contents at a moments notice.

A strangled noise of panic escaped his throat as the man suddenly pressed his lips to the underside of Sanji’s jaw in a prolonged kiss before trailing smaller, shorter ones down his neck.

“Mmm you taste as good as you smell,” the man chuckled, slowly laying Sanji back on the bed.

If Sanji had any control over his breathing, he’d be hyperventilating. Beneath the blindfold, his eyes darted around in distress. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“My name’s Yoshio. I don’t know what the others have told you about me, but I think we’re going to enjoy our time together. You’re not like the others; I can tell just by looking at you.”

Yoshio.

“If you thought that was bad, just you wait till Yoshio gets back and has his fun with you. You’ll be begging to stay with me then.”

Is this what Kin had meant? If this was all it was, Sanji thought he might be able to draw himself deep within the recesses of his mind, pretend that the person laying next to him was, by some miracle, Nami-san or even Robin-chan. Even images of Vivi-chan would do.

But when had the crafty Mistress of Fate ever looked upon him and smiled?

As quickly as Yoshio’s hands had disappeared from his skin, they were back again with renewed vigor.

Sanji resolutely bit down on the the silk gag between his teeth, vowing right then and there that he was not going to give this man the satisfaction of hearing any noise come from his mouth. Not a single one.

So he bit down his gasp as he was suddenly flipped onto his side, massive hands manipulating him as if he weighed nothing more than a couple of grapes.

The roar of his heartbeat returned in his ears, having nothing to do with asphyxiation this time. Sanji hated to admit it, but he was scared. Hell, he was downright terrified. He knew what was about to happen and he had no way of stopping it.

He was powerless to defend his body, stripped of his decency and hating every fucking second of it.

Powerful arms wrapped around his waist from behind, deftly undoing the zipper of his pants and sliding them down out of the way.

“Sorry,” Yoshio breathed in his ear. “Normally, I’d be a little more respectful than this. Take our time a little, you know? But it’s been a long day and I need this.”

And all of a sudden Sanji wanted to do something he hadn’t since he was a scrawny, malnourished nine year old.

Heat rushed to his eyes, the burning washing over them like a tide, strong and fast. By sheer spite, Sanji held the tears back, refusing to show weakness to this brute of a man. He hadn’t cried all these years despite all the heart wrenching shit he’d gone through with Luffy’s crew, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

The fine tremors running through his body had progressed to full body shakes, his entire body twitching and convulsing like he’d been out in the snow for too long without a coat.

Yoshio’s lips were against his ear, crooning softly to him, encouraging him to relax and enjoy what was happening as he pulled the smaller man flush against his own naked body.

And Sanji felt it, pressed against his lower body, huge and hot. He wanted to scream and thrash and claw at his own skin in an attempt to escape, but the drug still had a viselike grip on his muscles, refusing to let them move on their own volition.

All at once, Sanji thought he was going to pass out.

And for a second, he probably did.

Then his consciousness was brutally snapped back into his body as he was mercilessly thrust into, being forced to take it all in one ruthless plunge.

Sanji’s vow of silence went out the window faster than Luffy could snatch food from his crew’s plates.

His scream was garbled and guttural, tearing from his throat, its strength barely muffled by the gag strung between his teeth.

Fire. He was on fire. He was on fire while being torn apart by a jagged, smoldering knife.

It was cruel.

It was barbaric.

It was remorseless.

Yoshio was beside him with ecstasy, moaning with delight as he pushed in again and again and again, every stroke harder and faster than the last.

Sanji didn’t care if anyone heard him screaming anymore. He didn’t care that every single tear he’d built the dam against was soaking through the burlap of his blindfold. He just wanted it to stop.

Stop, please stop.

He desperately tried to go to that happy place in his mind, the place where he could find solace in the slender arms of the spirited Nami-san.

But there was no escape.

Every time he tried to retreat, something would yank him back.

A groping hand here. A tongue swirling circles on his skin there. The repulsive feeling of flesh slapping against flesh.

It was invading every single of his senses; there was no escape.

So instead he laid there and accepted his fate because what else was there to fucking do?

As the experience finally reached its climax and drew to a close, Sanji was beyond feeling sick anymore as blood and other deplorable substances began to dry on his legs. As Yoshio, slung his arm around the cook’s waist, sighing contentedly and whispering “Thank you,” like what he’d taken from Sanji was a voluntarily given gift, he couldn’t muster the trepidation anymore. As the larger man hugged him close to his chest, drifting off into satisfied sleep, Sanji couldn’t even say he felt disgust any longer.

All that was left was the profound and enormous sense of hollowness.

He had been robbed.

One of his greatest treasures taken from him, screaming and crying.

It wasn’t something that could be rebuilt or earned back; it was gone for good.

And Sanji felt nothing but hollow.

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