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tetzoro · 2 months ago

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☽◯☾ - SWORD AND SHEATH

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : After another slew at sea, you and Zoro have the ship all to yourselves as the crew restocks up on the island. They say that curiosity kills the cat, but what happens when you've tamed the beast?

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. zoro roronoa x f!reader ; swordplay, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, mentions of spit, pet names (baby, pretty girl), mentions of squirting, lots of teasing and praise — WC : 5.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ First Quarter ! ꒱ ― Kinktober Masterlist

Each glide of the polish-infused cloth along the Wado Ichimonji is slow, refined. Zoro was using his practiced hand to do the process he’s done thousands of times with the blade he cherishes most.

It was a form of art — the way the blade would be reborn with the shine it was always meant to have, no longer weighed down by the blood, dirt, and sweat that would so often coat it.

The sun beats down on him as he continues his ritual. Sword maintenance was just as important as training; it was cathartic, another form of meditation that Zoro relied on to center himself, grow stronger, and keep his tools as efficient as he could.

Wiping away the horrors each weapon has seen makes him feel a little more cleansed himself. Zoro has never been one to shy away from a fight or doing what he needs to do in order to survive, but the process just reminds him that he won the battle; he’s the one who gets to clean his blades and move onto his next enemy — the next step in his dream.

His wandering mind can’t help but drift back to you — his bright star in the night sky, the one that silently guides him along and encourages his every step on his journey, even going as far as lighting the way when the path seems too dark.

After a few moments of being with you, he too feels the weight of the blood on his hands fade away as soon as you lovingly take them in yours. The tender skin of your palms kissing, the buzz of being grounded by each squeeze you grant him and he finds himself able to begin again.

Seagulls chirp overhead as he works, polishing his blades with intent, his focus unshakeable even though the world around him demands attention. The gentle lull of the waves, the whispering breeze in the air, he was able to tune it all out.

But the moment you came waltzing onto the deck, his ears perked up and his nose scrunched, signaling that he knew you were there and mentally preparing himself for whatever you had planned next. If only he knew.

“What do you want now?” The last word dies in his throat as he takes you in, freezing in place. You only see it because you know him so well, and have studied his face and all of his expressions far and wide.

The subtle widening of his eye, barely a fraction of a difference but it’s a difference all the same. The stoic mask he so often wears, acting indifferent to things such as clothes, slips away as no one could ever ward off the power of beauty - especially yours.

The facade begins to chip away as a blush spreads across his face, gears turning in his brain to find something to say as you make your way over to him.

Because today, the Sunny was docked at an island for a routine supply run and you were all too quick to volunteer you and Zoro to stay back and watch the ship together. He should've known right then and there that you were up to no good but your syrupy sweet eagerness disarmed him.

But now you were stalking closer to him, dressed up entirely in his clothes – or at least some of them. Adorned in his notable green robe, his haramaki, and completed with his bandana securely tied around your head. His gaze rakes over your figure, taking in the way you look wearing one of his favorite outfits. Swallowing hard, his adam's apple bobs in anticipation. He can’t help but feel his throat close up and trap all the words he wishes to say behind a wall of surprise.

“What do you think?” You ask, your lips bending in a coy manner.

A blush blooms across his tanned skin in a slow crawl, blossoming into a darker shade the more you twirl in his robe that very clearly shows you’re not wearing his pants underneath it.

His jaw clenched, unable to form any words as he continues to drink you in. This was the last thing he expected from you today, but he really should’ve known better.

“You’re blushing.” You grin, going to poke his cheek. But his reflexes were too sharp, instantly swatting your hand away before turning his head away from you.

“Am not! Shut up!” He hisses out, the blush only deepening as you call him out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, woman.”

“Don’t I?” You move to get back in his line of sight, that disarmingly sweet yet taunting smile still resting on your lips. “Just tell me what you think of the outfit, Zo.”

“You’re wearing my clothes.” He points out, stating the obvious. You don’t bother to hide the way you roll your eyes.

“Very astute of you. Did you have to use your Haki to come to that conclusion?”

Without another word, Zoro throws you over his shoulder, marching back into the ship and straight for the bunks. You squeal, accusing him of being a brute as you lazily pound your fists against his back.

Zoro slaps your ass with a sadistic grin that you don’t have the pleasure of seeing before he begins to squeeze and knead the plush flesh, unable to move his firm hand away from it.

He makes his way into the cramped room. It wasn’t his favorite place to take you but it was the closest and climbing up the crow's nest would only cause a delay between him and what he desired most.

After closing the heavy wooden door with the back of his boot, he tosses you onto the bed, letting you sprawl out for him while he places his swords to the side – perfectly lined up as always.

“Wearing my clothes around like this…” Zoro trails off as his eye zeroes in on the way the robe slides off of your shoulder, teasingly exposing the sliver of your chest. He can feel his face heat up all over again. “Are you really not wearing anything under this?”

“Well, the pants didn’t fit me and you don’t normally wear a shirt under this.” The impassive manner in which you said that did not hold a candle to the way your eyes were fired up with a diabolical mirth wrapped up with mischief. Always playing the little minx that would find a way to burrow under his skin and make a home there just to torture him. Or so he says.

“You little...” Zoro quickly crawls over you, caging you in under him, elbows digging into the mattress by your head. “You make it so hard for me sometimes.”

“Do I? Let me feel—” You reach toward his pants but his hand encircles your wrist.

“Oi! That’s not what I meant.” he almost hisses out. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them over your head on the flattened pillow on his bunk.

The thread of control he was clinging onto was no match for the ember of desire you spark in him. One single strike and it would be burnt out, turning into ash and falling right into the palm of your hand.

“I know.” You giggle. The damn giggle that never fails to cause something within him to flutter, stirring it around until he had no choice but to act on it.

Surging forward, his lips aggressively capture yours. There’s no room for easing into it, just a clash of teeth knocking together, swirling with a mix of heady groans and needy moans.

But that’s one of his favorite things about kissing you — how you were just unabashed about how messy it would get. Swapping spit through the sheer force of each other's tongues shoving their way into hot, receptive mouths.

The amount of passion and unspoken feelings he’s able to express through this simple act is something he flourishes at, excelling at unraveling you. Gripping your cheeks, he tilts your head back slightly so he can deepen the kiss — as if he was trying to spill the words that stubbornly sat on the tip of his tongue and have it reach the bottom of your heart.

The call for air was growing too difficult to ignore and reluctantly he pulled back, letting the string of saliva snap and drip down your chins. He leans down, kissing the droplet off of your skin, ingesting as much as he possibly can before looking at you.

You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, melting into the bed already from the ferocity of the kiss. His steely eye trails away from your swollen, lust-bitten lips in favor of taking in the way you’re panting under him. Need takes over him as he reaches for your — his — clothes.

Zoro has disrobed himself many times, but he’s never had to take it off of someone else like this. He knows the way it unravels open and leaves his chest all exposed before he fights someone, but this isn’t one of those times.

With a gentleness that only love could bring, he languidly undoes the robe, pulling back a bit so he can see how the green fabric bunches around your sides, your heaving chest now out on display for him.

Peppering a few kisses down your jaw, his tongue trails your neck as he works his way down to your collarbone and your supple chest. Each delicious drag has you squirming under him, whining about him being a tease.

“You’re one to talk.” Zoro gruffs out with a bite of sarcasm, giving your nipple a quick pinch. He relishes in the yelp of his name that you beautifully let out before carefully trailing his slick tongue along your skin.

The way you mewl as his lips enclose your pert bud only reinforces the primal desire that’s been raging inside of him since you first came out dressed in that damn robe.

After giving your other breast the same treatment, he presses his lips in the middle of your chest and lets it linger so he can inhale one of the sweetest parts of your body — the one that lays closest to your heart.

Zoro presses wet, open-mouthed kisses all along your stomach, moving further down until easily slipping your panties off and tossing them behind him.

Running his fingers along your glistening folds, he holds back a groan at the strings of arousal already clinging to him.

“Already so wet f’me.” His eye was trained at the apex between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. “Gonna prep you now.”

Bringing his face closer, he shuts his eye in a hazy bliss as he takes in your scent. The action always made you squirm but he was addicted to every single aspect of your cunt. He could never get enough of your musk, knowing that heaven was only a taste away.

Before you could complain about him taking his time, he dives in.

It wasn't often that Zoro was in a position to praise you relentlessly while his head was normally buried in your heat where you took everything so well for him.

So, he’s learned to show you his adoration by the precise swirl of his tongue, making out with your clit and giving into every one of your demands. Groaning against your cunt as soon as he got his first taste, never quite getting his fill of it no matter how much he lapped at it.

“Zo – fuck.” The words rush out from your lungs and assimilate into the hazy tension that’s hanging in the sex-filled air. “Feels so good.”

His hands grip your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulder before moving to grab your ass, digging into the plushness and bringing you impossibly closer as he continues his assault.

“Tastes s’fucking good.” He slurs, the sound presses directly against your clit. Zoro's attention flickered back up to you, dark and stormy eye swirling around with a primal hunger as if he couldn’t ever get enough. “My sweet girl.”

You let out a soft whine as you clutch his hair, guiding him even closer as his tongue slips into your entrance.

He keeps at it, pinching your thigh — a demanding little code he uses when he wants to hear you more. Your saccharine moans, addictingly lewd mewls, and honeyed murmurs of praise.

“Please don’t stop, ah, ‘m getting close!” There was no way Zoro would stop. Not even if he wanted to tease you, not when he was so lost in your taste that all he wanted to do was let you pull him under your current and drown in it.

He vigorously continues to lap at your entrance, attempting to collect every drop of your sweet essence. His nose nudges your clit and he can feel your thighs begin to tremble, locking his head in place. He moves to focus his attention there, the flat of Zoro’s tongue adds more pressure onto the throbbing bud.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back raises from the mattress when Zoro collects your puffy clit in his mouth, sucking as hard as he can. You choke back a whimper, letting out a noise you’ve hardly ever released before as you claw at his head, humping his face for more.

“Zoro — fuck! Wait, it’s too much!" The words melt into an elongated moan, losing yourself to the drowsy delirium that zoro is spelling out against the bundle of nerves. He gives out a resounding grunt, gripping you tighter in encouragement.

It’s all you need to let go.

Thank god no one else was on the ship because they might’ve heard the way you cried out his name in ultimate bliss as the taut band within you fully snapped. Zoro didn’t stop, lapping up the slick that gushed from your sweet pussy.

The bottom half of his face glistens in your arousal and he was absolutely drunk off of it as if it was a bottle of the finest sake in the world.

“Keep 'em spread open for me baby, ‘m not done yet,” Zoro said, sitting back on his haunches and taking in your already fucked out expression. “Need you to do that again.”

After sliding off his pants, he grips the base of his cock, giving it a few tentative pumps as his eyes trail back over your body, covered in a sheen of desire.

If he didn’t crave to be inside of you so badly he would’ve come all over you, making you as messy as possible. His dick twitches at the thought, heat curling in his gut as he imagines you covered in the white of his essence.

“Zoro.” You gasp out, hands digging into the slightly sweaty sheets. The desperation and utter need that coats your husky voice almost does him in. But you’ve had too much control over him today, and he had to gain some of that back.

“Look at you.” Zoro's voice is low, dark and merciless. The deep desire that overtakes him and makes his words more gravely and coarse, sanding over your skin so gratifying it leaves your hips bucking up for more. The sight below him is surely one of his favorites and he plans on drawing it out for as long as he can. “All spread out for me in my bed, still in my clothes.”

Zoro leans forward, lightly tapping his cock against your sticky folds and nudging it through to your entrance, just resting it at your opening, not yet pushing in. His fingers dig deeper into your waist, keeping you in place before you can think about rolling your hips against him, trying to suck him in with all your might.

“You’re so mean.” A pitiful pout rests on your pretty lips and he almost gives in. Almost. But he knows you so well by now, knows that you’re used to getting exactly what you want and it only makes him want to ruin you more. To put you in a place where all you want is him, all you crave is his touch. And you’re teetering right on the edge, only a simple nudge and you’ll be falling right into his trap.

“Yeah?” One of his hands returns to his cock, reddened tip angrily staring at you as he starts to pump himself over your mound, spreading his precum all over his length as he preps himself for you. “That’s not going to get you what you want though.”

“Please, Zoro.” You barely breathe out, your need for him so great that it starts to turn painful, the dull ache spreading through your body like a wildfire, screaming out for relief as the flames of desire consume you. You’ve had a taste but you needed more. The only thing that would satiate you was his cock sliding deep within you. “Please, I'm sorry. Please don’t tease me, come on.”

The whine in your voice has his dick twitching in his hand, ego fueling the blood coursing through his veins. Zoro wasn’t a power-hungry man, he never cared for it in the same way most people did. He liked being strong, he demanded respect, but never wanted to lead — to rule.

But that all changed whenever he’d have you sprawled out beneath him. feeling like the king of the world as one of the most desired women only has eyes for him, begging for his cock, yearning for his love.

He’d give into you every time, his heart too weak to win against the love he had for you, but he tried to stave it off as much as he could.

“Only if you think you can handle it.” He smirks, tip catching against your clit, your body jolting forward. “See? You’re already so sensitive just from my mouth.”

“Dammit Zoro.” Another mewl that his cock leaps at. Frustration etches across your features, water pooling in your eyes as you continue to paw at him. It’s what he was waiting for — his pretty girl reduced to putty in his hand, ready to be played with. “Please.”

Something possesses him with the plea that pierces his heart — takes over the last cognitive brain cell he has as he lets out an exaggerated spit, the glob landing on his length.

Your breath hitches as he finally pushes himself all the way in, the stretch splitting you open to the point that no noise can come out, finally feeling full of what you’ve been waiting for all day.

“You turned me into this — fuck — made me like this,.” Zoro swears, his arm wrapping around your back and pulling you flush against him as he feels the way your greedy cunt keeps him snugly in place.

“Are you really complaining about that?” Your voice almost slips into a whine as he pulls back out a little before bullying his way through you as your cunt accommodates his girth — eagerly welcoming him back in.

“So tight, look at that.” He ignores your snark, opting to fixate on the way you’re swallowing him whole, slack-jawed and practically drooling over the sight. “Made for me.”

You clench at his words which rewards you with one of his sinful grunts, his head bowing slightly as you pulse around his throbbing length.

“Mhm,” You hum, digging your nails into his shoulders, little crescent moons blooming in its place. He lets out a hiss, snapping his hips all the way back in, nudging against your cervix. “Just fuck me already.”

“Always running your mouth off like a damn brat.” He glares down at you but there’s no bite to it — not with the amused crinkles that cradle his eyes with care.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Famous last words.

But Zoro didn’t do what he usually did; flipping you over and fucking you deep in the mattress until the only thing your mouth can do is sing out his name like a mantra.

His eye held the secrets of unspoken words, a question that he refused to waste his breath on — not when he already knew how to decipher the language of his gaze.

You trust me?

As easy as breathing.

Breathy pants escape his lungs as he keeps a steady pace, looking at you. No matter how many times he’s had you under him, you never fail to weaken him.

“I think it’s time we complete your little ensemble here.”

“Huh?” Zoro doesn’t answer you as he reaches for the Wado Ichimonji. You shift under him in anticipation.

“Relax, baby. I just want you to hold this for me.”

The heavy hilt lays in your mouth, muffling any of the moans that tried to escape it. Zoro's calloused hand runs along your cheek, down your jaw and chin as he appraises the view before him.

The look in his steely gaze was one you were familiar with but with an edge of possession — pride.

Countless times this treasured weapon has been wielded in his own mouth, fighting to protect himself, but more importantly, his crew. Seeing you laid out under him with a lust-blown look in your eye as tears brim your lashes is something else entirely.

“That's it. Keep holding onto it,” His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he slowly begins to thrust back into you. “Just like that.”

You let out a soft whine that sounded like a muffled version of his name. Compulsion drives him to quicken his pace, moving slow and steady until your body jiggles under the ferocity of each stroke.

“There you are. Keep it there for me and I'll take care of you, alright?”

True to his word, Zoro keeps pounding into you, his other hand trailing down your body and grabbing every bit of you he can get his hand on before his fingers catch your neglected nub between them.

The way you effortlessly clean his dirty hands, having his sword fit in your mouth like this makes it feel like it’s being cleansed in the most pure form possible. Each rapid rock of his hips has your jaw clenching down against it further, all of your enticing noises are muffled by the intricately woven hilt.

“Fuck, perfect.” The praise spills out of his mouth and pools into your gut. “So fucking perfect.”

The hilt started to slip, threatening to clatter against the floor and finishing all the work he had done on it earlier.

“Hold it.” He hisses, “Don’t let it fall.”

His hips urgently move faster, thrusting harder into you as you try your best to grip the sword in your mouth. But he knows how strenuous it can be on his teeth and jaw, so his hand slips up to cup yours.

Once you steady the sword, his hand trails down the sheath but his eye never leaves yours. With a bated breath, he begins to slide the sheath off, watching as your eyes widen in curiosity but make no protest to stop him.

The blade was now out, facing him and gleaming under the rays of light that poured into the room from the tiny window. The sight had his hips stuttering — the element of risk now flirting with his innermost desires.

You were perfectly safe in his arms, he was the one who should be worried. He knows how sharp those blades are, how a tiny graze could pierce his skin.

Yet the siren call of the silver glint beckons him as it sits so prettily in your mouth — a tantalizing sight. You may be the one under him but he was the one surrendering to your power.

Many more possibilities flashed in his mind, darker desires that had him pressing his chest flush against yours, the Wado Ichimonji only a few inches away from him.

But perhaps another time he could fully indulge in the temptations that swam around in his mind, wondering how far you two could go for each other.

For now, he missed kissing you, missed your lips on his, consuming the very air from his lungs and replacing it with your sweet noises that breathe him back to life. So he bends down further, expertly taking the hilt in his mouth and pulling it from yours.

He gives you a few deep thrusts before he rises up, ready to put the sword aside but your arm stops him.

The look in your eyes mirrors the same desire that licks at his gut, and he knows you two are on the same page — just like always.

“You want me to keep it out?” Zoro can’t hide the tone of surprise in his voice as he lazily humps against your hips. You give him a shy nod. “Why?”

“It could be fun.” The way you’re looking at him right now is killing him, slowly shredding away all of his worries and pushing him into the pits of temptation.

“It could be dangerous.”

“But isn’t that exciting?” Zoro swallows hard. It could very well be exciting, showcasing your trust for one another but…

“I don't want to hurt you.” He couldn't live with that, knowing that one of his blades had hurt you in a way you didn’t want. He'd rather slit his stomach open than do that.

“You wouldn’t but I'll tell you if it does, I promise.” You reach up and caress his cheeks with a tenderness that has him choking for air. “Our safe word can be… sake.”

“Okay.” The unease that previously rested on his shoulders flows down his back and far away from him as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Sake it is, you ready baby?”

After a quick nod, Zoro brings the Wado back between your two joined bodies.

The cool metal kisses your skin as it trails along a precise path with absolutely zero intention to harm. But to have the infamous pirate hunter Zoro hover over you, a dark gaze latched onto the point of his katana to your skin that’s budding with gooseflesh sends a chill down your spine.

It takes everything in you not to arch at the thrill, the simple act could nick your skin and end this before it even begins.

“How's that?” Zoro's voice sounds a million miles away as your blood thrums loudly in your ear. The swordsman lets out a groan as you salaciously clench around him, his fist tightening around the hilt as he continues to glide the metal along your skin.

“So good,” Your breath hitches as he continues to graze it over your collarbone. “Knew you wouldn’t hurt me, Zo.”

“Never.” He gruffs out, trying to keep his eye open although the fluttering of your walls tempts him to shut them in bliss. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out like this.

Trust could be hard to find in this new world, he was lucky to find a crew that he knew would always have his back throughout everything. but this? This was so much more than that.

To be able to have you in the most vulnerable position imaginable with a blade dancing along your skin, and enjoying it not because of the act itself, but because of the trust and respect the two of you have built for each other, growing into something he’d never dream of attaining.

If he wasn’t careful, he could finish right now as pleasure shoots down his spine, desperately begging to fill you up. But the last thing he’d ever do was leave you ever wanting more.

Gently putting the blade aside, he ravenously crashes back into you with a new spark of ardor — chest to chest, ferociously driving into your cunt before his lips meet yours once again.

He kissed you and tasted the familiar steel, but mixed with your sweetness that he’d never stop chasing as long any time he’d have to put this blade in his mouth.

“So fuckin’ good.” The words sink into your lips, unable to move away from you for too long. His hips erratically move now, no set rhythm as they chase the high you both desperately seek. Your nails claw into his back and force a guttural groan out of him, wanting nothing more than for you to mark up his whole body. “So fucking good for me.”

Zoro never minded pain, it came with the territory of who he is. But having you inflict it on him was the sweetest sin he’s ever known, his body bursting with pleasure as it threatens to come undone and feed into all of your desires.

“Zo-!” you gasp out, tears brimming with droplets of devotion that he can’t wait to lick up. “‘m close!”

The sweet sound of your cries only fuels him more.

“Go ahead baby, let go.” His gaze is trained on your expressions, soaking them up as it morphs into an unyielding force of pleasure.

As your back arches up into him, he’s quick to flatten his palm there, keeping you flush against him. He can feel every tremor and tremble, each of your nerves and neurons firing off and coursing through your veins.

A wave of ecstasy crashes over your body, freezing each of your limbs in place and threatens to drag you to oblivion.

“Almost there, just a little longer.” Zoro pumps into you, your cunt clamping down on him to the point he almost has to pull out as you squirt all over his lower half and the already messed up sheets. “That’s it, fuck yes-“

Zoro begins to release in your cunt with a grunt of your name, letting you milk his cock as his body shudders in the eternal bliss you so readily provide him. He pulls out at the last rope of cum, letting it land on your mound before he nudged your clit with his softening cock, ensuring to make a mess all over your pussy.

“Zoro!” your body jolts, fingers gripping his bicep. “‘m sensitive.”

“Then come here baby.” Zoro pulls you into his strong arms, carefully eyeing the blade that was still unsheathed and still set aside.

Zoro's calloused fingers catch your earlobe, gently massaging it as he inspects it.

“You know, you still need one more piece.” Zoro's gaze is intense as it sets on you. His hands trail down your body, lightly massaging it as he works his way down in a soothing manner.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“When the others get back, we’re going into town so we can get you your own pair of earrings.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Just like me.”

“Really?” The mind fogginess of the shared desire breaks away from the way beams of light emit when you smile at him.

He nods, brushing his lips alongside the temple of your head. Zoro presses his nose into your hair and inhales it.

“Quit sniffing me.” You let out an amused scoff.

“Nah, you just smell so damn good like this.” His lips move to kiss along your face, pressing into your neck before inhaling once again.

“You mean sweaty?”

“Drenched in sweat, arousal and me.” His voice is low in your ear and you crinkle your nose at the strange, but endearing compliment.

“Freak.” You tease, snuggling into him, feeling the way his muscles ripple around you in his strong, unrelenting hold.

“Takes one to know one.” He chuckles, feeling his body start to settle from the intensity of his high, melting into you and the mattress as a nap threatens to take hold. But he just had one more question. “So, if you’re dressed as me, does that mean you can drink sake as well as me?”

“Maybe we should find out.”

tags: @thesunxwentblack @autumnstuffs

#☆ 𓂃 Kinktober !#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#dividers by cafekitsune #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #op x reader #op smut

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eelnoise · 1 month ago

Text

cut to the feeling

>in which zoro realizes he may have a thing for you

pre-ts!zoro x gn!reader cw: none! fluff! an: this was in my wips for so long but i'm so in my feelings about zoro that inspo finally came to me. also this is secretly selfship coded and is in the same canon as a few other fics. wc:2k

With another scorching day in the sun and a breeze that's hardly enough to move the ship at an acceptable rate, there’s a rare silence that spans the decks of the Thousand Sunny. The humidity is enough to keep even the more rowdy crewmates indoors with hopes of escaping the rampant heatwave.

Despite the intensity of the day, Zoro is ever a creature of habit—and can be found taking his usual afternoon nap under the slight shade of the mast, sans robe and sporting a large bandage wrapping along his bicep that covers the wound left by stray shrapnel from a skirmish with marines a few islands back.

It doesn’t bother him. Why would it? It’s just some extra sweat or an extra drink of water, might as well be a normal day for him.

Through the serene silence of the deck, Zoro's rest is disturbed all too early by the sound of one of the doors below creaking open. Familiar—though new—footsteps approach, clamoring up one of the staircases to his nestled spot in the shade.

He watches as you appear next to the mast and notes how your expression changes, seemingly surprised and somewhat relieved when you see him already wide awake and staring in your direction. He just looks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if waiting for you to begin.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask, fiddling with the strap of your bag and shifting on the balls of your feet.

Zoro tilts his head slightly, following your movements as you fidget nervously beside him. He remains silent for a moment, considering your request with a measured look. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and even. "A minute for what?" His tone is direct, betraying no hint of the curiosity that flickers across his features.

You take a moment to steady yourself, glancing around the expanse of the deck before focusing your attention back upon him. “Well,” you begin, your voice steadying as you notice the tension in his shoulders. “The short of it is—Chopper sent me to change your bandages.” You try to keep your tone light, but the seriousness of the situation lingers in the air.

Zoro grumbles something under his breath about Chopper being a mother-hen. He sits up slowly, stretching his limbs as he does. "Fine," he mutters, a hint of annoyance in his tone as he holds out his wounded arm in your direction. "Just get it over with."

"I'll make it quick, promise!" you say with a reassuring smile as you move to sit cross-legged at his side. The shift in position brings you closer, your warmth mingling with the afternoon sun, and Zoro finds himself oddly aware of the intimacy of the moment.

You work methodically, lifting his arm to rest gently across your lap. The warmth of your touch sends a rush of unfamiliar comfort through him, as if such kindness is a rare gift. His nostrils flare as the scent of your shampoo wafts toward him while you reach for the small scissors designed for cutting medical bandages.

He observes silently as you take his arm to gently rest in your lap. Zoro tries to remain collected, but he can't help but notice how your touch is both soft and sure—like you've done this a hundred times before. The slight scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, and a part of that signature tough-guy image wants to lean into it, to bask in the pleasantness of it all. But he resists the urge, simply taking in the moment as you reach for the scissors.

Zoro’s gaze follows your every movement as you tend to his wound, his focus intense yet unwavering. He remains still, allowing you to work without interference. As you gently lift his arm, he feels a strange warmth wash over him, unfamiliar and unexpected.

He tenses slightly at the unusual feeling, his senses suddenly heightened. Zoro's brow furrows as he tries to understand what this sensation is. He's used to discomfort, pain, the sharp bite of a sword against his skin. But this is something different. It's gentle, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

As you continue tending to his injury, Zoro silently observes every meticulous gesture you make. There's something intimate about this entire situation—the gentleness of your touch, the closeness, the way you focus so intensely on him. It's a foreign concept, something he's never really experienced before.

His hardened exterior slowly begins to crack as a sense of vulnerability creeps in. He can't help but notice the feeling of heat where your hands lightly brush against his skin, his muscles involuntarily tensing in response.

You find the wound is intact—not a single stitch busted open, the clean lines of the bandage reassuring in their neatness. “No broken stitches! Any pain?” you ask, your voice laced with concern as you carefully examine the area, searching for any signs of trouble.

Zoro shakes his head in response. "No pain," he replies gruffly, his stare shifting away from yours. His brow furrows as he tries to suppress the faint touch of redness that flushes his cheeks slightly. "I've had far worse than this," he adds, the hint of pride in his voice an attempt to return to his usual cool demeanor.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you reply, turning to grab some antiseptic and a cotton pad from your pack. “You’ve got quite the steel will, from what I’ve heard.” You pour the liquid onto the cotton and gently dab it across his stitches.

Zoro tenses slightly as the cool liquid hits his skin, the slight sting pulling him back to the moment. He studies you closely as you gently dab the cotton pad across his stitches, the faint scent of the antiseptic lingering in the air.

He gives a small huff in response to your comment, the compliment making his heartrate spike ever so slightly. "You could say that," he says gruffly, his usual nonchalant tone cracking slightly.

You hum, a blend of a smile and soft laughter, as the breeze playfully tousles your hair, sending strands dancing around your face. Zoro feels an urge to tuck it behind your ear, the simple act stirring something in him he can’t quite grasp.

As you continue to clean the wound, Zoro's mind wanders. He finds himself acutely aware of your proximity, the warmth of your body so close to his own. It's a sensation that he's not accustomed to, one that stirs something deep within him.

There’s a silence that comes over the two of you as Zoro tries to fathom why you’re making him feel this way. He can feel his hands shake each time the pads of your fingers grace his skin, and it’s enough for him to ignore the remaining ache in his shoulder.

What is going on?

Zoro's heart races each time your hands touch his skin, his breaths becoming a little shallower than they should be. He can't understand why he's reacting like this to something as simple as changing bandages. He's never been fazed by something so trivial—and yet, the sensation of your touch against his skin sends tingles down his spine.

He fidgets slightly, shifting his position on the deck flooring, desperate to regain some semblance of cool composure. Zoro's thoughts are a whirlwind of unbidden, uncharacteristic impulses, the silence between the two of you growing thicker by the minute.

He feels like he should say something, to break the silence in an attempt to ease himself, and, maybe, he just wants to hear the caring timbre of your voice again.

“So,” Zoro begins, still not caring to look at you—his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead instead, “What’s the long of it?”

“The long of it?” You reply, and he catches you tilting your head up to him in his peripheral, but fights the urge to break his waning focus.

“You said the short of it is Chopper asked you to change my bandages.” Fuck. Why is he so bad at this? What even is this? Zoro can't help but inwardly curse at himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. He doesn't understand why he's so compelled to keep this conversation going, why he wants to hear more from you, more of your voice, more of your laughter…

“Oh!” You giggle, a sound so endearing that it disarms him, making it impossible to maintain his facade. “The long of it, huh? Well, you know Chopper doesn’t fare well in the heat. He’s busy whipping up extra burn salves.”

Your laughter wraps around him like a soothing balm, easing the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind. He finds himself locking eyes with you for a brief moment, captivated by the brightness in your expression, before he quickly looks away, a flush creeping to his cheeks.

“Burn salves, huh?” he murmurs, his tone low and thoughtful, as he works to keep his demeanor nonchalant despite the flutter of nerves beneath the surface.

“Mhm, you know Usopp goes through the bulk of them.” You explain as you unravel the replacement bandages. "I don't think I've seen a full stock since stepping onto the ship."

Zoro lets out a low chuckle, the tension easing slightly. "Usopp is a walking disaster," he mutters, "always finding new ways to burn himself." Despite his harsh words, there's a hint of fondness in his voice, showcasing the bond they’ve forged through countless adventures.

Another giggle from you as you adjust his arm across your lap to ready it for rebandaging. How can such a small sound make him feel so tingly? Why is his free hand shaking with the temptation to touch you?

Zoro tries to suppress the shiver that runs down his spine as your giggle echoes through the air once more. He finds himself staring at your face, the way your lips quirk upwards into a small smile, and he has to resist the urge to reach out and tuck a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

His free hand clenches into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles paling from the force of it. Why is he feeling so drawn to touch you, to feel the softness of your skin against his calloused fingers?

Gently, the wound is wrapped up in a very neat way. You take your time to ensure it isn't too tight or too loose—finding a happy middle ground to keep his wound safe for healing.

As you diligently wrap up the injury with a practiced touch, Zoro can't help but appreciate the care you take in your work. Your precise movements and attention to detail are soothing, almost captivating. He silently notes the way you find the perfect balance between compression and looseness, making sure his wound is protected yet unrestricted.

He takes in your every move, his attention shifting between your focused expressions and the gentle precision of your hands as you work. There’s a quiet intensity in the way you concentrate, and he finds himself drawn to the delicate care you put into tending to him, the unfamiliar warmth surging through him once more.

"All done!" You say happily, giving him a soft tap of your fingers to his wrist before moving to clean up the remains of his former dressing. "How's it feel?"

Zoro flexes his arm a bit, testing out the tightness of the bandage. It's snug, but not uncomfortably so. He glances down at the clean new wrapping then back up at you, the touch of your fingers against his wrist sending another jolt of electricity through his body.

He clears his throat, trying to hide the affect your touch had on him. "Feels... fine," he mutters gruffly. "Sturdy."

"Excellent," you reply with a bright smile, gathering your supplies with a practiced ease before rising to your feet.

Zoro finds himself oddly disappointed as you stand up, readying to leave. He wasn't expecting this moment to end so soon. He had become so wrapped up in your presence, in the quiet moments between you as you worked diligently on his injury.

He watches you gather your things, a silent, unexplainable longing for your company coursing through him. But he keeps his mouth stubbornly shut, his usual impassive exterior firmly in place.

But you ask him something he doesn't expect then, something he didn't know he'd be chomping at the bit to want.

"It's killer out here," you say, fanning yourself with your free hand, the light breeze teasing your hair as you glance at him with a bright smile. "I'm going to grab some water—Sanji's keeping some cold for everyone. Want a glass?" The way your expression sparkles makes his heart skip a beat, and he finds himself eager for any excuse to prolong your time together.

Zoro's eyes widen ever so slightly at your question. A part of him wants to decline, to maintain his usual aloof demeanor. But another part, a more impulsive part, leaps at the opportunity to prolong your time together. He clears his throat again, his voice gruff as he replies. "Yeah. Sure," he mutters. "A glass would be nice."

You nod, promising to be right back with some after disposing of his old dressings below deck—and though it seems like ages for you to return, you do with that same smile with an ice cold glass of water in each hand.

"Mind if I join you? It's nice being out here in the quiet."

As you return, glasses of water in hand, Zoro can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in his chest. Though he outwardly remains stoic, he's inwardly glad for the chance to linger in your company.

He glances at the empty spot beside him on the deck floor. "I don't mind," he mutters, scooting over slightly to make room for you. "Quiet's nice every now and then."

As Zoro and you sit side by side, sipping on the cool, refreshing water, he finds himself surprisingly at ease. The silence between you is comfortable and soothing, a welcome change from his usual readiness for action.

As the minutes roll by, he can't help but notice the way you hum a soft, soothing tune under your breath, the sound blending seamlessly with the gentle lapping of waves against the ship. He turns his head to glance at you, a small, uncharacteristic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Perhaps this is something he could get used to.

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