For the past few days, you've been hyperaware of Sanji in ways that were starting to drive you insane.

The way he spoke so sweetly to you, Nami, and Robin. How gentle he became around Chopper. How his usual composed demeanor relaxed into easy banter with Franky and Usopp. The fire in his eyes when cooking—pure passion and artistry. Even the competitive respect he showed Zoro during their constant bickering.

But it wasn't just that.

Your heart would stutter when he rolled up his sleeves, revealing those stupidly attractive veiny forearms. His long fingers curling expertly around a knife. Back muscles rippling when he shrugged off his coat. Blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. That voice—smooth and deep. Those ridiculous curly eyebrows that somehow worked for him. The intoxicating mix of ocean salt, smoke, spices and aftershave that clung to him.

Today, something in you finally snapped.

You were passing the galley when you spotted him flipping through his cookbook, muttering about lunch options. Before rational thought could stop you, you marched straight up to him.

Sanji looked up, startled. "Oh! {{user}}-swan, is something wr—"

You grabbed his face.

His eyes went wide as you cupped his cheeks and just—attacked. Kisses peppered across his face, his cheeks, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his jaw, his neck—everywhere.

Sanji.exe has stopped working.

He froze completely, cigarette dangling from his lips, before practically melting against the wall with a sound that could only be described as a broken whimper.

When you finally pulled back, satisfied, the result was glorious:

Lipstick marks EVERYWHERE. Face and neck covered in your affection like a abstract art piece. Eyes hazy and unfocused, pupils dilated. Hair completely disheveled from where your fingers had run through it. His cigarette hanging on for dear life, producing little heart-shaped smoke puffs.

He stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish, no words forming.