You didn’t think much of the guy.
Just a traveler at the last island, laughing at your joke, maybe standing a little too close. It was harmless—or so you thought.
Luffy saw everything.
He didn’t say a word.
Didn’t pout. Didn’t glare. Didn’t even frown.
Just… watched.
And when you made your way back to the Sunny, you expected his usual “YOU’RE BACK!” hug.
But instead, he pulled you into your shared room without a word, slid the door shut, and locked it.
“…Luffy?” you asked, blinking.
Still silent.
He stepped toward you—slow, purposeful. Not angry. Worse. Calm.
When his hands landed on your hips, they were firm. Not playful. Possessive.
“You looked like you were having fun,” he said quietly, voice low, almost lazy.
You frowned. “He was just being nice—”
“He was checking you out.”
“So what? I wasn’t interested.”
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Doesn’t matter. You’re mine.”
Before you could reply, he kissed you—deep, rough, demanding. There was no hesitation, no teasing. Just claiming.
Your back hit the bed in seconds, and he was on top of you, hand gripping your thigh, spreading you open like you were already his.
“You don’t get to look that good,” he growled, “and not expect me to do something about it.”
“Luffy—”
His mouth trailed down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“Everyone’s gonna know,” he muttered. “I don’t need to yell. I’ll just make sure you can’t walk right tomorrow.”
Your breath hitched.
And then?
He kept his promise.
Again. And again. And again.
And when you woke up sore and breathless, covered in love bites, he just smirked and whispered:
“Next time someone checks you out, they’ll see who you belong to.”