𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ㅤ jessㅤ

You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.

Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.

He looks as exhausted as you feel.

"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.

"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."

Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."

"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"

"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."

"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."

"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."

"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.

"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."

"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.

"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."

"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."

"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.

"Our death," he agrees solemnly.

For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.

His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.

"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.

"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.

"I'd just block her."

"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."

"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"

"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."

"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"

"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.

His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

But then his hands start to wander.

It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—

He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.

"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."

"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"

"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"

"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."

"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"

"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."

"That's not science, you idiot."

"It's my science."

You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.

"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it."

For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.

You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.

"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"

There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."

You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.

"We were having a nice moment."

"We still are."

"You've got a boner."

"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."

You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"

"You are absolutely the problem."

"I literally haven't done anything."

"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."

"I hummed?"

"You hummed."

"I don't hum."

"You do when you're really comfortable."

You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."

"I have."

You glare at him.

"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."

You snort. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm trying to be respectful."

"Are you?"

Silence.

"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."

Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."

His voice is quieter now. "So happy."

You burrow your face further into his shoulder.

"…I like when you're like this."

You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."

"Only for you."

There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.

"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."

"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."

Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.

When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."

"Up where—"

But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."

"Satoru—"

"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."

How are you supposed to say no to that?

"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.

"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."

"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—

"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.

He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."

But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.

"Satoru—"

"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.

It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.

"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."

"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.

"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.

Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.

"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."

His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.

"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"

"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”

His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.

"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."

"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.

But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.

"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"

"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."

He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.

"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"

"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster. 

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.

When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.

"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."

"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh really?"

"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.

"Oh, baby."

He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.

"Fuck, baby—"

"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.

"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."

"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.

"Yeah." His voice is strained. 

He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.

"Satoru—"

"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”

His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.

"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."

"Satoru, please—"

"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"You know what I want."

"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."

"You're killing me—"

"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."

His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.

"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."

"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.

"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."

"Satoru—"

"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."

Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.

"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”

"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."

He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."

"Satoru—"

"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"

"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"

"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."

His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.

"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"

"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.

"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."

"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.

"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"

"Yes—fuck—right there—"

"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."

The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."

"Don't stop—"

"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."

The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.

"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."

When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.

"Satoru—"

"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.

Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.

"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.

"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"

"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"

"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."

"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.

"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."

His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.

"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."

You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.

He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"

You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"

He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."

He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.

"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."

"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"

"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”

The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”

His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him. 

"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”

His composure finally snaps.

"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."

He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.

"Not until you."

His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"

Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.

"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"

The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.

"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.

"Holy shit," you mumble.

"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."

"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.

"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."

"I love you too, you needy disaster."

"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.

He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.

"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.

"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."

"Clingy."

"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."

"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.

You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.

Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.

He looks as exhausted as you feel.

"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.

"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."

Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."

"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"

"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."

"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."

"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."

"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.

"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."

"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.

"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."

"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."

"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.

"Our death," he agrees solemnly.

For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.

His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.

"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.

"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.

"I'd just block her."

"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."

"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"

"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."

"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"

"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.

His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

But then his hands start to wander.

It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—

He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.

"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."

"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"

"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"

"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."

"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"

"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."

"That's not science, you idiot."

"It's my science."

You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.

"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it."

For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.

You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.

"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"

There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."

You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.

"We were having a nice moment."

"We still are."

"You've got a boner."

"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."

You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"

"You are absolutely the problem."

"I literally haven't done anything."

"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."

"I hummed?"

"You hummed."

"I don't hum."

"You do when you're really comfortable."

You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."

"I have."

You glare at him.

"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."

You snort. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm trying to be respectful."

"Are you?"

Silence.

"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."

Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."

His voice is quieter now. "So happy."

You burrow your face further into his shoulder.

"…I like when you're like this."

You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."

"Only for you."

There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.

"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."

"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."

Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.

When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."

"Up where—"

But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."

"Satoru—"

"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."

How are you supposed to say no to that?

"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.

"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."

"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—

"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.

He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."

But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.

"Satoru—"

"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.

It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.

"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."

"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.

"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.

Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.

"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."

His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.

"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"

"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”

His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.

"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."

"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.

But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.

"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"

"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."

He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.

"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"

"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster. 

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.

When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.

"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."

"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh really?"

"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.

"Oh, baby."

He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.

"Fuck, baby—"

"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.

"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."

"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.

"Yeah." His voice is strained. 

He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.

"Satoru—"

"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”

His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.

"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."

"Satoru, please—"

"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"You know what I want."

"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."

"You're killing me—"

"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."

His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.

"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."

"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.

"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."

"Satoru—"

"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."

Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.

"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”

"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."

He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."

"Satoru—"

"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"

"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"

"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."

His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.

"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"

"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.

"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."

"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.

"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"

"Yes—fuck—right there—"

"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."

The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."

"Don't stop—"

"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."

The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.

"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."

When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.

"Satoru—"

"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.

Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.

"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.

"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"

"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"

"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."

"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.

"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."

His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.

"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."

You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.

He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"

You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"

He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."

He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.

"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."

"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"

"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”

The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.

"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”

His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him. 

"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”

His composure finally snaps.

"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."

He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.

"Not until you."

His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.

"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"

Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.

"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"

The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.

"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.

"Holy shit," you mumble.

"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."

"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.

"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."

"I love you too, you needy disaster."

"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.

He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.

"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.

"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."

"Clingy."

"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."

"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.

۶ৎ ❝ tag navigation❞

⤷ ゛#꣑ৎ𝒎𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒊𝒆'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 ｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡ ˎˊ˗ 𓊆all my works .𓊇 ⤷ ゛#╰┈➤ 𝓂𝓁𝑒𝓂𝒾𝒾𝑒'𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა ˎˊ˗ 𓊆tag list! Don't be shy >< 𓊇 ⤷ ゛#𝓂𝓁𝑒𝓂𝒾𝒾𝑒'𝓈 𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓋𝑒 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆pinned post, taglist, request rules, masterlist <3𓊇

۶ৎ 𓊆shortcut sh!reader; ao3𓊇

)ᛝ( sh!reader all parts shortcut ♡ྀི <𝟑 .ᐟ 🤍 )ᛝ( sh!reader drabbles shortcut ♡ྀི <𝟑 .ᐟ 🤍 )ᛝ( sir crocodile sh!reader request 🤍

۶ৎ ❝ character navigation❞

my regular one piece men; Rob Lucci, Sir Crocodile, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Roronoa Zoro = <𝟑 .ᐟ

other one piece men; Vinsmoke Sanji, Smoker, Portgas D. Ace Red-hair Shanks, Dracule Mihawk, Sabo, Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon", Buggy the Clown = ♡ྀི

Short Fics ꫂ𓏲

‧₊˚ ┊ flinchy!reader pt1 <𝟑 .ᐟ — flinchy!reader pt2 ♡ྀི🤍💌

‧₊˚ ┊ messingup!reader — messingup!reader sequel 🤍💌<𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊messingup!reader pt2 𓊆package is pending!𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊silentattempt!reader 🤍<𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊awfulcook!reader 🍮<𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊grieving!reader <𝟑 .ᐟ 🤍

‧₊˚ ┊fever!reader <𝟑 .ᐟ 🍮

‧₊˚ ┊ petnames & dirtytalk! 🏩🍰 <𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊ petnames & dirtytalk! pt2 🏩🍰 ♡ྀི 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊fearful-avoidant!reader <𝟑 .ᐟ 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊workaholic!reader ♡ྀི 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊blind!reader 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

ᝰ.ᐟ Drabbles

‧₊˚ ┊ clingy out of nowhere pt 1 જ⁀➴ 🍰🍮<𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊ clingy out of nowhere pt 2 જ⁀➴ 🍰🍮 ♡ྀི

‧₊˚ ┊ clingy out of nowhere pt 3 જ⁀➴ 🍰🍮 ♡ྀི

‧₊˚ ┊ unexpected aftercare 🍰🤍 <𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊he holds you close pt1 <𝟑 .ᐟ he holds you close pt2🤍🍰 ♡ྀི

‧₊˚ ┊tease him in public 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊ ‘flinched’ love at first sight 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊his comfort 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊his treasure 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊ ”kiss me” 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊sulky!reader 🍰🍮 <𝟑 .ᐟ

‧₊˚ ┊the ‘shorter’ kiss 🍮<𝟑 .ᐟ

One Shots & analysis ‎ꫂ᭪݁

‧₊˚ ┊ “shut up.” [smoker] 🏩🍰

‧₊˚ ┊“the wedding dress.” [sanji] 🏩

‧₊˚ ┊“Soft love, rough sex.” [zoro] 🏩🍰

‧₊˚ ┊donquixote rosinante "corazon" request 🍮💌

‧₊˚ ┊ trafalgar d. water law flinchy!reader request 🤍

‧₊˚ ┊ just thinking; how would [Donquixote Doflamingo] take care of a s/o struggling with mental health? 💬🍰

‧₊˚ ┊just thinking; how would [Sir Crocodile] take care of a s/o struggling with mental health? 💬 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊just thinking; how would [Trafalgar Law] take care of a s/o struggling with mental health? 💬 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

‧₊˚ ┊ just thinking; Dating Rob Lucci? 💬 𓊆package is on delivery! 𓊇

comfort:🤍 angst: 💌 fluff: 🍮 analysis: 💬 short: 🍰 nsfw:🏩

I hope you found what you’re looking for pretty; because you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen <3 mwah mwah

Zoro turned slightly and you stood there like you’d always been there, elbow resting against the bar, gaze following his toward the bartender with mild interest.

“He’s not going to come over,” you added, almost thoughtfully.

Zoro huffed once through his nose. “Yeah. I noticed.”

There was a beat, then—

“I could help you with that.”

That got his attention. He glanced at you properly this time, sharp and assessing, like he was trying to place you in a category and hadn’t quite decided where you fit yet.

“Oh yeah?” he said.

You smiled. Not wide or sweet, but knowing. 

“Yeah.”

A small tilt of your head toward the bartender, and Zoro caught the flicker of something in your eyes.

“Watch.”

And before he could respond, you pushed off the bar and slipped into motion. The first thing he noticed was that you didn’t rush. You moved like you belonged there, like the space would shift and accommodate for you if it need to. By the time you reached the bartender, your posture had softened, your expression brightened just enough to catch his attention without looking like you were trying.

It worked immediately.

Zoro watched as the bartender straightened, grin widening, focus snapping entirely to you as you leaned just slightly over the counter. He couldn’t hear everything you said over the noise, but he didn’t need to.

There was a laugh, yours, followed by a light touch to the bartender’s wrist. Overall, a quiet exchange that had the man nodding quickly, already turning to grab bottles.

Zoro leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. Huh.

A few minutes later, you returned, noticeably not empty-handed. Very much not empty-handed.

You set down one, two, three bottles in front of him until there were eight lined up neatly along the bar.

Zoro blinked once, then looked at you to see that you were already holding two for yourself.

“Figured that might last you a while,” you said lightly. “Buy you some time until the bartender does look over here.”

There it was again, that look. That subtle curve of your mouth like you two were in on something no one else was. You gave him a small wink, then turned to leave, and just like that, you were gone. 

Zoro watches you disappear into the crowd, the noise of the tavern settling back into place like nothing happened. Eight bottles sit untouched in front of him, his fingers curl loosely around one, but he doesn’t drink, at least, not yet.

Not when his attention is still fixed on the space you left behind, and the impression you left him. A slow exhale leaves him. “…Interesting.”

He leans back slightly, gaze sharpening, no longer unfocused anymore, not idle. You peaked his attention in a way that he can’t name yet, but it provduces a desire to keep you close and nearby.

     ‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝  𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿

By the time you slipped back through the crowd, the tavern hadn’t quieted, it never did, but it had shifted slightly. 

“There you are.”

One of your friends waved you over, leaning in as soon as you got close.

“You’re missing it.”

“Missing what?” you asked, already letting yourself be pulled into the edge of their table. Another one nudged you, barely containing a grin.

“The blond.”

You followed their gaze. And, oh.

There was a blond man sat at the far end of the tavern, as close to the kitchen doors as the seating allowed, body angled just slightly toward the narrow window where plates passed through. If his attractiveness didn’t grab your attention, that it would have been the way he wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking, or even paying attention to the room.

His entire focus was locked on the kitchen, more specifcally, on the chefs. Your eyes narrowed just slightly, interest piqued. 

“…He’s not even looking at anyone,” one of your friends whispered.

“No,” you murmured, already standing. “He’s not.”

You approached without hesitation, wanting to know more about this mysterious man. He didn’t notice, at least, not at first, because he seemed distracted. A frown was on his face, not one that marked annoyance, but more of the ‘offended’ variety. 

“…He’s overcooking it,” he muttered under his breath.

You blinked, not expecting that to be the first line of interaction between you two. 

“Oh?”

While the mysterious stranger still didn’t look at you, you at least know he heard you due to his affirmative grunt before continuing the conversation. 

“He added the seasoning too early,” he continued, voice low, attempting to show some restrain “It’s going to burn the flavor right out and—”

You smiled, slowly. “And I’m guessing you could do better?”

“Obviously.” Immediate, and automatic, but still not looking at you. You huffed out a quiet laugh. This man was definitely different.

“I could get you in there,” you said.

And that is what did it. He finally turned and for the first time, he took notice of you. There was a flicker of something across his face—fast, sharp—like his brain had to catch up to what his eyes were seeing.

You, standing there like you hadn’t just been casually listening to him critique a kitchen mid-service. Like you hadn’t just offered something ridiculous with complete confidence. For half a second, he just stared.

And then, everything about him shifted.

Posture straightening, expression softening, and a new sense of charm clicking into place like second nature.

“—Mademoiselle,” he breathed, already halfway to standing. “I didn’t realize I was being graced with such—”

You tilted your head, cutting him off with a small smile, charmed despite yourself.  “Do you want to fix the food or not?”

He paused for a beat, and just like that, the flirtation stalled. Not gone, at least, not completely. Just…redirected. 

His gaze flicked back toward the kitchen window, to the view of the chef flipping the meat too soon, causing Sanji’s eye to twitch.

“…Yes.”

You didn’t give him time to rethink it. “Then come on.”

You turned, already moving, trusting he’d follow. He did, immediately. He was halfway convinced he could follow you anywhere. 

The kitchen door swung open with a soft creak as you stepped through, but you didn’t go far. You stopped right at the threshold, careful, respectful, not crossing into the space where only staff were meant to be.

Sanji’s heart skipped a beat at the implicit care and respect that you provide the kitchen and the chefs by showing that little bit of restraint. By understanding, seemingly implicitly, the rules and boundaries of a kitchen. Something he can’t help but be in awe by because of the lack of decorum shown on the ship by his crew.

“Hey,” you called lightly, catching the attention of one of the cooks nearest the door, causing the man to glance up and his shoulders to relax when he saw you.

“Oh, it’s just you. Hey sweet girl.”

There it was, recognition and familiarity.

“You busy?” you asked, already knowing the answer after years of hanging around.

He snorted. “Always.”

Your smile turned a little sharper. “Yeah, I figured.”

Your gaze flicked past him, toward the man currently manning the stove, the one Sanji had been watching.

“Head chef still out?”

A groan from somewhere deeper in the kitchen as more pots and pans clatter and the bustle of the kitchen moves on as more orders are placed. 

“Don’t remind me.”

Perfect. At least for you and your new friend. You leaned slightly against the doorframe, casual, comfortable. “I’ve got someone who can help.”

That got their attention. Skeptical glances were thrown at you and the blond, who got a more detailed assessment from the other chefs. Your head tilted just enough toward the man, tone light and teasing, “He’s been complaining from the dining room. This is—“ you stop yourself quickly realizing that you never introduced yourself to him or got his name. Actually this whole plan was crazy, but something in you told you it was right. 

The man sees your slight panic and smoothly steps in, “I’m Sanji, and I can do more than complain,” he said instead, stepping forward just enough to be properly seen.

Confidence, controlled, and certain. The room shifted just enough to accomodate their newest chef who seemingly just knows how to take control. 

One of the cooks raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

Sanji’s gaze flicked to the stove, to the pan that’s worsening the mistake of that meat.

“…You’re burning it.”

Silence, then—

“Alright,” someone muttered. “Show us.”

And while you didn’t need to stay, Sanji being welcomed into the kitchen, accepted even. He was where he needed to be, you’ve done your second good deed of the day. But still, you lingered, just long enough to watch and see him in his element. 

Sanji noticed, even as his hands moved, corrected, adjusted, and took over without overstepping, his attention always flickered back to you. 

You smiled, small and certain, before mouthing the words clearly, “You’ve got this,” to him. And then you were gone.

The kitchen didn’t slow, didn’t pause, but something had changed. Sanji exhaled once, steadying himself, then refocused.

The pan, the heat, the timing. Everything where it should be, under control, exactly how he liked it.

His mind drifts back to the doorway, to you.

To the warmth of your smile, fleeting but lingering in a way that doesn’t make sense. He exhales slowly, steadying himself as he plates the dish.

Focus. Timing. Balance.

But the thought slips in anyway, soft at first, then settling. You noticed. A faint smile tugs at his lips.

You understood.

Something deeper follows, quieter and warmer, and definitely far more dangerous. His movements don’t falter, if anything, they sharpen.

I’ll make sure you never have to look anywhere else again.

     ‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝  𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿

The kitchen door swings shut behind you, the warmth and noise muffling just slightly as you step back into the hallway. For a moment, it’s quiet, or as quiet as a tavern like this ever gets.

You exhale softly, rolling your shoulders once before turning toward the back corridor. You might as well take a second.

The hallway is dimmer, lit by a couple of low lanterns, the hum of conversation fading the further you move away from the main room. You’re halfway to the bathrooms when you pause. There’s something… odd.

A small figure stands in the middle of the hall, shifting from foot to foot, clearly distressed.

“…Which one do I even use…?” a voice mutters, quiet but very real.

You blink, tilt your head, then step closer. “Uh… is everything okay here?”

The figure startles slightly, and turns, revealing a small, furry creature with a little hat.

You stare for a beat, attempting to process the sight infront of you.

“…Hi,” he says.

You blink again. “…Hi.”

Another pause, before his small mouth opens and he starts blurting out, “I need to use the bathroom, but I’m technically a male, but the guys bathrooms are always really gross, and I didn’t bring Nami or Robin and I don’t know if I could use the women’s and—” He trails off, clearly overwhelmed.

You stare at him for a second longer before you start laughing, not to be mean, but simply because you were surprised. The look you gave him after made Chopper feel warm and cared for.

“Well,” you say, stepping a little closer, “that’s a fair dilemma.”

He huffs, ears drooping slightly. “It is!”

You glance between the two doors, then back at him.

“…Alright.” A small shrug. “Go ahead and use the women’s.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you say easily. “I’ll stand out here.”

You gesture vaguely toward the hallway.

“Make sure no one bothers you.”

“…You’d do that?”

You give him a small smile. “Of course.”

A few minutes pass as you lean lightly against the wall, arms crossed, listening to the distant noise of the tavern filtering back in. It’s almost peaceful. Almost.

Inside, there’s the faint sound of movement, a bit of fumbling—

and then— 

“Um, thank you again!” Chopper calls through the door.

You huff out a small laugh. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a pause before he continues softly.

“You’re really nice.”

Something in your chest softens. “Don’t get used to it,” you tease lightly.

“…Too late,” he mutters.

The door creaks open, and Chopper steps out, looking noticeably less stressed.

“See?” you say, pushing off the wall. “Crisis handled.”

He nods quickly. “Yeah! Thank you, I—”

He stops and so do you, because now you hear it. Not the usual tavern noise, buy something sharper.

A raised voice, hen another angrier. Your brows knit slightly, concerned about what you’re going to find outside those doors. 

“…Do you hear that?”

Chopper’s ears twitch. “…Yeah.”

Suddenly there was a crash and the sound of glass shattering loud enough to echo down the halloway, causing your stomach to drop. 

“That—”

“—wasn’t good,” Chopper finishes.

You glance at him., then toward the main room, then back at him.

“…I should probably—”

“I should check on them,” he says immediately.

Of course he does, you sigh softly.

“Yeah, come on.”

You round the corner together and step right into tension. The tavern has changed completely. People have backed away from the center of the room, forming a loose circle around the source of the noise.

A table lies overturned, shards of glass scatter across the floor, and at the center stood the man from the bar earlier and a group of other people, facing off against a group of men you recognize all too well.

Management.

Your stomach sinks.

“…Oh, that’s not good,” you murmur.

Because this? This isn’t just a misunderstanding. This is about to become a problem, a big one.

Chopper shifts beside you. “They’re gonna get in trouble.”

You exhale slowly, already thinking and calculating. “Yeah, probably.”

Your gaze sharpens slightly. “But maybe not for long.”

The air in the tavern has gone sharp, not loud or chaotic, but stretched thin, as if something was about to snap. From the edge of the crowd, you and Chopper watch as the circle tightens around them.

The Straw Hats, as Chopper calls them, stand at the center. While they’re seemingly still, it’s cleared they’re not relaxed, not even close. Tension radiated through their bodies, clear that one wrong move and this tentative peace we’ve found ourselves in will be over quickly.

A familiar figure steps out from the kitchen, Sanji. He’s wiping his hands slowly, methodically, like he’s finishing one task before stepping into another. His gaze sweeps the room once, clearly assessing and calculating.

Then it lands on you, then Chopper, then back to you, just for a second, long enough to give a small shake of his head. Subtke and deliberate, a clear message for both of you to stay back and out the way.

“Got a problem?” a voice sneers, grabbing your attention back.

Chase, of course it’s him. He’s one of the leading trouble causers in the town, but since his family is rich and helps funds a majority of the projects, no one ever wants to make a clear stance against him, leading Chase to think he can handle anyone.

He’s currently leaning too close to the crew, coming across as overally aggressive, and way too comfortable with getting in someone’s space. 

Specifically, Roronoa Zoro. 

You understand Chase’s facination, seeing the man carry around three swords is a clear indicator as to who he is. And to stand up to an infamous man like that and live to tell the tale would be an incredible and impossible desire for Chase to give up on.

Zoro hasn’t moved, not an inch. However, his presence has changed. His hand rests near his sword now, loose and ready.

Chase must not have noticed, or maybe he does, and thinks it’s a game.

“I said,” Chase continues, louder now, “you don’t just walk in here, cause trouble, and think you can leave without paying for it.”

Behind him, voices layer in. Snide comments toward Nami, a laugh directed at Robin, both dismissive smf disrespectful, clearlywrong. 

While Luffy no longer looks angry, he’s also still not smiling, and yet that makes it worse.

Sanji steps into place beside them, rolling his shoulders once as he loosens his tie, slow and controlled. 

“Oi,” he says, voice low. “You’re getting a bit too comfortable.”

Chase scoffs. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Sanji’s expression doesn’t change, but the air around him does.

Zoro’s fingers tighten, just slightly, but enough to tell you that whatever patience they have is quick to run out.

You exhale, before nodding slowly to yourself. 

“Yeah,” you murmur under your breath. “This is about to get bad.”

Chopper shifts beside you. “They’re gonna fight—”

“I know.”

And that’s exactly the problem. Because if they do, it blows beyong just a tavern fight, a becomes a whole town problem, and there’s really no need for all of that. Not when you’ve worked so hard to not have attention be brought around you. 

So before it happens, before the first swing, before the first blade leaves its sheath, bou move. You slip between bodies, through tension, into the center like you belong there, because you do.

And then, without any further thought, you place yourself between them; management and the crew, making sure to face management head-on, surprisingly, giving your back to these pirates you’ve never fully met. 

There’s a shift immediately, while subtle, it was all the more real. Behind you, something in all of them stills. Not because the threat is gone, but because now, you’re there. Attempting to be their savior, and recklessly gave them your back without looking at them once to check, because for some reason, you didn’t feel like you needed to.

Your attention is on Chase.

“Wow,” you say lightly, glancing at the broken glass, the overturned table. “You’re really committing to the drama tonight, huh?”

He blinks, thrown off, before his face morphs into a scowl again. 

“Stay out of this,” he snaps.

You tilt your head slightly. “Mm. I would.”

A brief pause before you continue, “But you’re making it everyone’s problem.”

A couple of people nearby shift, listening now, watching a scene between this well known high-born citizen, and this seemingly random girl. 

You step just slightly to the side, subtle and controlled, positioning yourself so you’re not blocking the crew completely, but still in the middle, the focus. Your mind is running fast as you shift through tons of informations bits you’ve gleamed by listening around town to be able to turn this situation around fast. 

“Let’s think this through,” you continue, voice calm, easy. “You’ve got a full tavern, a paying crowd, and a reputation you barely manage to keep as it is.”

A flicker crosses Chase’s face, and there it is, your glowing sign. You press just slightly.

“If this turns into a full fight?” you add, gesturing lightly around the room, “chairs broken, people hurt, word spreads…”

A small shrug.

“…That’s bad for business. Especially if the Marines need to get involved.”

Murmurs ripple outward in agreement, and discontent at the thought of Marines coming to your island. While your island is relatively small and filled with lovely citizens, known as the perfect shopping and trading center, there are still the seedier parts of town that thrive and actually help support the town’s economy. And it needs the Marines to stay far away to keep the businesses going, as well as anyone who potentially harms that business is seen as a traitor to the town. 

Behind you, a flurry of actions and emotions passes through each of the present members. Zoro doesn’t move, but his grip loosens, just a fraction as he watches you charm the crowd and their opponents into your wishes.

Sanji’s gaze drops briefly to you, admiring your stance and your fierce bravery in the way you’ve placed yourself between them without hesitation or fear. But as much as there is attraction and appreciation, there is a small part of him that is frustrated that you didn’t listen to his earlier warning to stay away from danger. To have you risk your life for them, for him, and potentially get injured? He could never live with himself with that.

Chase exhales sharply, seemingly unwilling to let go of this potential new challenge, regardless of the negative consequences sure to come his way if he continues down this path. “Then maybe they should’ve thought about that before—”

“Before what?” you cut in smoothly with a small smile, not at all sweet, but sharp and pointed, clear that you’re done playing around. 

“Before sitting down? Ordering drinks? Existing?”

A couple of people laugh, quiet, but enough. You lean in just slightly, lowering your voice just enough so that others can’t hear, but that it still feels personal.

“Or is this about something else?”

A beat, before your gaze flicks, just briefly, to the staff behind him. To the kitchen, to the missing head chef, before back to him before briefly looking at the scratches that are on his hand. Clearly stating that you understand and are willing to call him out on it, without having to say it directly. 

Chase’s jaw tightens, since he knows what you’re doing.

But more importantly, so does everyone else, as shown by the various whispers that start picking up around the room. 

“…Clean it up,” you say lightly, gesturing to the mess. “Let them finish their drinks.”

A pause before you continue. “And we all pretend this didn’t happen.”

Silence.

Behind you, Luffy tilts his head slightly, equal parts interested and amused. 

Robin watches you carefully, trying to understand you and your motives. Why would you stand up in defense for this crew that you know nothing about? What is it about you that makes you so willing to risk yourself in the defensive of others. She couldn’t figure you out, not yet, but she felt something in her come alive at this new puzzle that was placed all wrapped up beautifully infront of her. 

Nami’s eyes narrow, not in suspicion, but in calculation. While she was appreciative of not being kicked out of another establishment, a sort of joke between the crew that has morphed to include an ‘incident free’ calendar that they just started three days ago. So while Nami was glad the streak was still on and alive, looking hopeful of reaching sometime of longevity this time around, she was cautious feeling that noone does a good deed like that without wanting or demanding something in return. And there is no way to ensure that what you ask for, it within the realm of positibility for either.rr

Sanji doesn’t look away, enamoured by the sight you make, taking charge in this situation and not giving up until you got your way, focused on your epic adventure. 

And Zoro—

Zoro’s watching your back.

Chase exhales sharply through his nose before looking around and seeing the large crowd that had amassed during the conversation. Even someone as blind as him could recognize that the crowd was noot on his side, before finally stepping back. 

“Fine, for now.”

The tension breaks, not completely, but enough that people start moving again, freely talking and breathing easily. You don’t turn around immediately, letting the moment settle and your heart beat slow down a bit. Then you glance back over your shoulder just slightly to tell the crew with the newly joined Chopper, 

“Try not to start anything else.”

Casually, as if you didn’t just stop a fight and this is a normal everyday encounter for you to step in defense for total strangers. 

Out of the corner of your eye you get a glimpse of your friends clearly searching for you, making you realize you have to go. With one last smile, you leave to join your friends and reassure them that you were fine. 

Behind you, something has changed beyond the situation and the outcome they were expecting. You’ve grabbed their attention in one way or another, something you would learn would be dangerous. All because you took action, without question and without knowing them, seemingly following your blind instincts to protect. 

Something a certain captain completely understands and approves of. Luffy grins, slow and bright, feeling certain that a type of adventure is in the air, and that it all has to do with you.

As if knowing what their captain was thinking, the remaining crew straightened up, feeling on the edge of something. 

Zoro’s gaze lingers on your back as you walk away, steady and certain. His thoughts couldn’t help but circle back to the confident steps, the certrainty in your actions of what was the right move. A confidence like that is difficult to fake, especially in a high pressure situation like that, even more so between people of authority and unknown people like them. Zoro takes a look to the left and sees Robin already staring, a shared thought between them. They had to learn more about you. 

Robin’s smile is soft, and slightly knowing. There’s something about you that draws her eye, something beyond your bravery that clearly captivated her crewmates. Something about you that felt vaguely familiar, but she just couldn’t remember how. 

Sanji watches you go, something warm settling into something sharper. He lights another cigarette in an attempt to calm himself. Meeting you was an unexpected joy, and he felt something beyond his typical admiration for women with you. But you putting yourself in danger like that, makes his heart clench with an emotion he cannot yet name. He won’t let yourself be risked like that again. 

Nami crosses her arms, thoughtful. You were quick on your feet, and obviously a smooth talker to be able to get the management off their backs, and the crowd onto their side. You’d be valuable, an asset. And Nami is certainly about advantages, especially when it could mean saving her nakamas in the future. 

And Chopper, now on Zoro’s shoulders, looks at you walking away with quiet admiration.

She protected everyone…

A small, certain thought follows.

…We should keep them safe too. It’s only right.

     ‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝  𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿

By the time you and your friends spill out into the street, the tension from earlier is gone, and instead is replaced with laughter. It’s easy, bright and alive, enjoying the few moments you allow yourself to relax and enjoy the night, enjoy yourself. 

“Did you see that?” one of your friends laughs, looping their arm through yours as you walk. “You just—“ she waved her hand in front of her casually as she continued, “walked in and fixed everything like it was nothing.”

You grin. “It wasn’t nothing, of course I was scared”

“Oh please,” another cuts in. “And what was that look you shared with the green-haired one?”

You blink. “What look?”

“The look,” she insists, nudging you.

“And the blond!” someone else adds. “Don’t think we didn’t catch that either.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “You’re all dramatic.”

But you don’t deny it, not really. You’re not sure what to say about the connections you obviously felt with each man, but you weren’t ready to delve into that yet. 

As you guys continue down to the next location, you can’t help but notice how the street is lively, lanterns glowing warm overhead as you make your way toward the next bar. Music drifts through the air, voices and movement blending into the perfect night, the air cool now that the sun is completely gone. 

There was a loud noise that drew all of your attention across the street to see the same people you were thinking about gathered loosely near a food vendor. The captain stood at the front in mid-order, pointing enthusiastically at something on the grill while a man in overalls beside him nods along.

The rest are spread out nearby, relaxed, but not unaware, because the moment you step into view, they all notice, and something subtly shifts.

Postures straighten, attention sharpens but not in a guarded way, they were way to cautious to potentially scare you off by coming across tough in that way. They were sure to project an auro of open and interested as not to scare you off. 

“Well, well,” one of your friends murmurs. “Looks like your admirers are back.”

You huff softly, but you’re already walking closer, a part of you excited that your paths cross this soon. Pirates are known to stop by the island, but they’re quick to leave, especially after an encounter like they had in the tavern. You’ve heard the stories of this crew, but to see their confidence in person is a completely different experience. 

It’s  Catburgular Nami who greets you first with a small smile, eyes sharp but warm. “I was wondering if we’d see you again,” she says.

You tilt your head slightly, returning the smile. “Same here.”

Her gaze flicks briefly to your friends, then back to you.

“You handled that situation earlier… very well.”

You shrug lightly. “Someone had to.”

A soft hum from beside you as the one known as Nico Robin steps in just slightly, her presence calm, composed, observant.

“You seem quite skilled at placing yourself exactly where you’re needed. That’s a healthy skill to have,” she says.

There’s something in her tone, not accusatory or even questioning, just noting, a bit of healthy curiosity. 

You smile, just a little sharper this time. “Or maybe I just don’t like messes.”

Robin’s lips curve faintly. “An admirable trait.”

You’re aware of it then, the weight of their attention at a whole crew. Instead of feeling intimidated, a part of you feels relaxed in their prescence, despite knowing only tales and barely anything personal about them.

There’s a subtle shift of energy behind you, feeling warm, curious but focused, giving you just enough time to prepare for the upcoming conversation.

“Hey!”

You turn, and there he is, the famous Captain Monkey D. Luffy, grinning like he’s already decided something.

“I’m Luffy,” he says, like it’s the most important introduction in the world, as if there are people that don’t know about the Devil Fruit user. 

You blink, then smile. “Yeah, I figured.”

He beams immediateky, unfiltered but no less certain, “I like you.”

Your friends snort behind you, amused by the various conversations you’re partaking in, something completely different from your normal routine. They care for you but know that you’re still tightly guarded. Seeing this group of people bring you such clear joy, made them beyond happy. 

You laugh softly. “You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t need to,” he says easily.

And somehow, you believe him. The crew behind him shares some looks and laughter, familiar to the typical explaination from their captain, understanding that it’s a gut instinct. 

The rest of the introductions blur into something warm and easy. Voices overlapping, laughter shared, the groups seemingly eaily blending together. Sanji reappears at your side at some point, offering food without asking, while Zoro lingers just close enough to be part of the conversation without saying much. Usopp jumps in and out with exaggerated stories as Chopper sticks near you more often than not.

It’s easy, almost too easy. So when you suggest, “Hey, we’re heading to another place—bar hopping. You should come.”

It doesn’t feel like a big decision, just a continuation.

Some of them exchange looks, quick, silent. then—

“Yeah!” Luffy says immediately.

And just like that, they join you.

     ‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝  𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿

The bar is louder than the last, dimmer and closer, the kind of place where conversations blur together and time slips your friends peel away toward the counter, chasing drinks and laughter.

Leaving you, standing there with them all surrounding you. The shift is immediate, while not visible, it was felt. They’re all closer now, not crowding, just determined to be in your atmosphere, present and focused. 

Luffy, Sanji, Chopper and Nami are all immediately next to you, Zoro, Usopp and Robin sit opposite from you, completing a circle. Luffy leans forward slightly, his voice dropping in tone, clear that he’s serious and focused on this moment with you, and your answers. “Have you ever thought about being apart of a pirate crew?”

You blink, completely thrown by the question. “…What?”

He doesn’t laugh, and doesn’t brush it off. He leans in just a little, eyes steady. “Imagine it,” he says.

“Every day a new adventure. Somewhere you grow and challenge yourself and never have to settle.”

There’s something in his tone, something pulling and inviting, holding infinite promises for you, all under the premise if you would just leave with them. 

“Where you can be free.”

“Be treasured,” Nami adds smoothly. You glance at her to find her gaze is steady, certain.

“Never doubting your value or purpose. Everyone on a pirate crew provides.”

“Be protected,” another voice follows, this time low and grounded. You don’t even have to look to know it’s Zoro. “Never worry about having to be the strongest or the smartest.” A pause. “Just… you.”

“Where you can be cared for,” Sanji says softly.

You meet his eyes, earnest and unwavering. “Loved.”

Your breath catches, just slightly.

“What would it take?” Luffy asks again.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a casual question. It feels like something is waiting on your answer.

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking, running through the logistics of leaving this town. It was always the plan, you’ve probably stayed too long already. But to leave like this? 

“Well…” You sigh softly, tilting your head. “For how long?”

A small shrug. “I could do a overnight trip, or a quick adventure. The store can be closed for that long.”

A faint laugh. “But to leave forever?”

You trail off, thinking.

You don’t see it, the way their expressions shift subtly and quickly.

Your gaze drifts instead, to your friends over at the bar, laughing and waiting for their oder. You smile, soft and fond, smile only growing once your friends make eye contact with you. Their faces light up and they wave over to you joyfully. 

You wave, enjoying this moment. And that’s your answer.

“Well,” you say quietly, turning back. “I’d miss my friends.”

A small breath.

“And I’d worry about them.”

Honest, simple, and real.

“I’d need them to say it’s okay for me to go, before I could join anyone forever.”

Silence, not empty and not awkward. Just, still.

Because you don’t notice the way something settles over the group. Not heavy or obviously, but decided. 

Luffy smiles, slow but happy at the answer. “Okay.”

And just like that, you’ve set the terms, and they’ve already accepted them.

Luffy watches you turn back toward your friends, thoughful and content. That’s easy.

Nami’s gaze follows yours, calculating. They just need reassurance, that’s something they can provide for you in spades. 

Sanji’s jaw tightens slightly, his eyes soft but focused. We can give them that.

Zoro exhales quietly, already done thinking about it. Then we’ll make it happen.

And you just smile, unaware of the way your future is slowly but surely changing.

a/n: happy birthday to me! this idea appeared in my head and has not left me alone, so i've written this. while this is not my normal dc content, i figured i should be allowed to post what i want today! this is my first time diving into writing one piece and this idea has hit me and i must write it! so i hope you enjoyed it, and sorry if they’re ooc!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, and here's a kiss from me to you!

respond below if you would like to be added to the taglist for this series!