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baconwaffle2016 · 5 months

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This is everything I could ever want ❤️ 💕

smoking.

Sanji x Reader Rated E

The best part of an argument is always the make up.

You wake up to the sound of clattering, the noise too loud and the sun too bright. "What the hell?" you mutter, lifting your head from the pillow as you squint and look around.

The bed next to you is messed but empty, and you press your forehead to your palm for a moment as you catch your bearings. You remember playing cards with Nami and Zoro, and when it was clear you were not going to win you had started to drink. The others had eventually joined and when Sanji pulled out some vintage something-or-other he found in gods-know-where, it was pretty much over for you.

But not for the night, it seems, considering you are in Sanji's room and are wearing one of his undershirts with nothing else. You sigh and roll to your side. Every time you swear it's the last, it never seems to be.

You get a nice view of his bare back as he bends over to rustle through a trunk, his pants loose around his hips. "Where the damn devil is it?" he huffs.

"What are you looking for?" you ask, pushing yourself up.

"My lighter. The one with the silver case." He straightens and kicks the side of the trunk, making the lid slam. You wince at the sound as he moves on to a set of drawers. "I had it just the other day."

"Do you have to make such a racket?" You sigh as you flop over to your back to stretch. "What time is it?"

"It's seven o'clock and I can't get breakfast started until I've had a smoke," he says.

"I have matches in my coat pocket," you yawn.

Sanji shoots you a sour look. "Matches are unrefined," he says. "I need my lighter." He continues banging through the room as you rub your forehead, cursing under his breath. A minute later he comes around the bed and nudges it with his knee. "Get up for a minute?"

"Why?" you whine.

"I want to check under the mattress."

"Why would your lighter be under the mattress?"

"I don't know? It's not on the little dish where I keep it so it could be anywhere."

You heave a sigh and roll over to the other side, sliding to the edge so he can lift the mattress and peek under. "Just use the matches."

"I rolled these ones myself. I'm not wasting them on matches."

"Fire is fire."

He drops the bed and huffs at you, putting his hands on his hips. He would look deliciously handsome if you weren't so annoyed. You yawn and run your hands through your hair as he looks at you. "You haven't seen it?"

"Why would I have seen it?" You gesture around. "If you kept a better track of your things, then it wouldn't be a problem."

Sanji frowns as he looks around. His room is what you would call organized chaos: it has a clear system, although what that system is or how it works, only Sanji seems to know. His collection of bottles and cookbooks overflow the shelves, his own papers where he keeps his recipe notes sitting in tilting piles. "I keep track of everything," he argues.

"Except your lighter." You stand and start to get dressed, looking around for your clothes that are now scattered as Sanji conducts his search. You move around awkwardly in the cramped space, bumping into one another as Sanji climbs around you. At one point he steps on your pants and you swat him on the backside, earning a swat in return.

"Watch it," he mutters.

"Keep your hands to yourself," you snap back. You shoot him a scowl as you tug on your pants.

"You weren't saying that last night," he smirks.

You roll your eyes as you pull the belt closed. "You are a pain in my ass. Did you find your lighter?"

"No. I need a cigarette."

"At this point, so do I." You sigh and fold your arms. "Don't you have like a dozen lighters?"

"They are all for different seasons. Right now I use the one that is silver plated. It works best in the cold weather, and won't rust in this particular type of salt air. If I use one of the others, then—"

"Forget it." You hold up a hand before snatching up your coat. "Best of luck to you."

"You mean you aren't going to help?" he cries.

"Help?" You look around. "You're a grown man who lost a lighter. You have several others and about three different ways to make fire on this boat. No, I'm not helping you."

"You probably moved it." He points a finger at you as he steps closer. "Did you hide it?"

You know he's joking, but it irritates you anyway. "If you don't get your finger out of my face I'll break it off."

"Oh yeah?" He stands so you are nearly touching now, you scowling upwards as Sanji smirks down. "You loved my fingers yesterday."

"Do you have only the one joke?"

"Do you have my lighter?"

Annoyed now, you reach into your coat pocket and pull out the matches. You flick them at Sanji, smiling in satisfaction when they smack him in between the eyes. "My compliment for the chef," you joke, stepping around him.

Another slap lands on your backside, and you spin. You grab Sanji's wrist and all at once you are tussling, half cursing and half laughing as you each try to land another smack on each other. Now out of breath, you yank his hair, earning a yelp as he lets go of your waist.

"Serves you right," you snap.

Sanji gives you a pinch before you can jump away. "You're always manhandling me," he complains.

"Me?" you gape. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

You gesture to the bed. "How drunk was I last night? And you took advantage of me."

Sanji scoffs, his mouth open wide as he huffs several breaths. His hands go back to his waist as he shifts from foot to foot, looking like he wants to both laugh and throttle you. "Take advantage of you?" he yelps. "For your information, you were all over me last night. I just tried to get you to bed—"

"So you admit you took me to bed drunk—"

"To sleep, love, and you were all... handsy." He gives a fake shudder, but you narrow your eyes. "There was no stopping you."

You fold your arms. "You have like sixty pounds on me, at least. I think you could have fended me off if you didn't want it."

"Ha! So you admit it was all you." Sanji grins as he snaps his fingers. "See? You came to my room, wanting to take advantage of me—"

"You're so full of shit!"

"My body is a temple of male power," he continues, ignoring you. "It is a finely tuned machine that you defile with your horniness. It's all I can do to keep your hands off of me half the day."

You blink at him, completely confused by how ridiculous he sounds. "You have to be one of the dumbest men I've ever met."

Sanji frowns, folding his arms over his chest. "What men? Who are these men?"

"Go blow it out of your ass," you mutter. "And I hope you never find your lighter!"

You bend over to grab the matches from the floor but Sanji is quicker. "Hey!" you yelp as he strides to the door, flinging it open and storming down the hallway. You pull off his tank top and yank on your shirt before running after him, finding him stomping into the kitchen as you hurries to catch up.

By the time you get there he has the oven open, turning the gas on before opening the book of matches. He uses the entire set—at least eight or nine, nearly half the pack—and lights them before holding the ignited ends to the burner. A moment later a blue flame forms a circle, and as you curse he fans the matches out before pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Sanji leans over and tries to light his cigarette, a difficult task as his hair keeps falling in the way. He slams his hand on the counter before trying again, and a moment later the sweet tang of tobacco fills the room as he lets go a long puff of smoke, standing and leaning back against the counter.

"Are you insane?" you say. "You're gonna light the entire ship on fire like that!"

He flips you the bird as he takes another long drag of the cigarette. "So my matches aren't good enough for your precious cigarettes but they are good enough to light the stove?” you continue. “And you'll use that to light your smoke? You are unbelievable. What the hell was all that about back there?"

The cigarette is already halfway gone. He takes another long drag, dropping his head back when he exhales. The plume of smoke glides upwards towards the ceiling, and you watch it for a moment as he moves to the sink and sprays water to put out the lighted end. He tosses it towards the rubbish bin before striding towards you, and a moment later you find yourself pushed against the counter, his mouth pressed to yours in a possessive kiss. You curse against his lips, pressing your hands on his arms, but his strength keeps you pinned against him as his mouth moves aggressively on yours. There is none of his usual teasing or finesse, the kiss all teeth and tongue, his hands roaming your back before one yanks your thigh to the side so he can slot his body between your legs.

"What are you doing, you oaf?" you manage to get out as his kiss moves downwards to your jaw.

He bites your lip and gives a tug until you pull back. "I love it when you call me a dumbass," he teases. He pulls the back of your shirt up and slides his hands along your spine; they are cool against your warm skin, making you shiver. "Gets me hot."

"What happened to being a temple?" you mutter as his mouth leaves a sloppy trail down your neck. His teeth sink into you gently and you arch against him.

"You know I can't resist you, love."

You laugh at that, dropping your head back as his mouth works its magic against your skin. Visions of that same mouth between your legs has your eyelids closing, giving in to his roaming hands and the possessive way he kisses you. He's certainly left a mark or two by the time his lips return to yours, and you grab the back of his head to hold him there so you can kiss him back, your free hand sliding down his bare chest and through the soft covering of hair.

"Love," he groans, his hands moving to your belt.

"What?" you tease when he yanks it open.

His answer is clear when he pulls you off the counter, turning you around to bend you over with his body. The belt opens and he tugs your pants down, leaving them hanging mid-thigh and just your midsection bare. Sanji bites your shoulder through your shirt and you reach back for him, and when his hands return to your hips you feel his erection, hot and leaking and hard as it rubs against your backside.

"Here?" you gasp.

"I can't wait." He presses his palms to your backside and slides downwards, opening your thighs. The pants keep you from spreading your legs too wide, but as you grip the counter you feel him enter you, his hips pushing against your rear when he fills you as much as he can. "Damn," he groans, pulling out before sliding back in. "You're so tight like this."

"Sanji—"

He starts to pump, hard and fast, as you try to keep your grip against the counter. It does feel tighter, and you can feel every inch of him as he drags in and out between your legs. The head of his cock never leaves your body as the thick shaft delves again and again. His thrusts are steady, the dull sound of your bodies slapping barely audible over both of you panting. He grabs your shoulder at one point, holding you firmly as he surges deeper, and all you can do is press back, trying to give him all the access he needs to push himself as deeply as you crave. It's not quite as filling as when you are on top, or he is, pushing your legs wide open to sink to his hilt. But it is feverish and passionate and doing it here, in the kitchen, after your argument has your skin flushed with fire.

Arousal slips easily from your body, making his movements almost silky as he buries himself as much as possible. You whimper, leaning forward a bit, desperate for more. But then he presses his palms against your hips and pushes, lifting you nearly up off of your feet. At this angle the head of his cock presses directly against your front wall, finding a spot that has you crying out, already shaking in his grip. "Don't stop," you beg, "don't stop, right there, don't stop—"

Your orgasm breaks without any warning, toes curling against the tile. You drop your head as your mouth opens in a silent moan, your body seizing as your muscles tighten unbearably around him. Still Sanji pushes in that dizzying rhythm, making the contractions come in rapid, steady pulses that leave you trembling with pleasure. It rocks with each stroke, and then you feel him stiffen, the grip on your hips tightening with a last plunge inside. Sanji makes a noise low in his throat that sends another shiver along your spine, and then he pulls from your body, pressing his cock against your backside as the last of his come shoots in drops on your skin.

You are both panting heavily when he eases back a moment later. "There," he says, using one of his large hands to rub the seed into your skin before giving your bare behind a gentle tap. "Now we're even."

"Even?" You yank up your pants and turn, still trapped against the counter as he smirks down at you.

"Yeah. Even." He leans down and gives you a smacking kiss on the lips. "Hungry?"

You push him away with a sigh. "You better get breakfast started before the others are up."

"We're up!" Nami's voice yells from the direction of your room. "We can hear everything!"

"You better sanitize that kitchen before you cook," Zoro's voice shouts next.

You snort as Sanji rolls his eyes. "I'm never appreciated." You give him a tap on the chest and he finally eases back enough to let you by. You move towards the kitchen door to go back to your own room and change as Luffy yells, "Is breakfast ready yet?"

"Ten minutes!" Sanji calls, the familiar clatter of pans sounding behind you as you head down the hallway.

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