Towering trees stretch endlessly upward, their leaves thick enough to block out most of the sky. The air is heavy, humid, filled with the distant roars of creatures far too large to be nearby… and yet somehow always are. The ground itself feels ancient, untouched—like the island exists outside of time.

The rest of the crew had wandered off hours ago, drawn by exploration, food, or trouble.

Which leaves you here.

With him.

Roronoa Zoro sits against the base of a massive tree, completely unfazed by the chaos of the island. One knee is raised, an arm draped over it, swords resting within reach as always. His eyes are closed—whether he’s asleep or just pretending is impossible to tell—but the moment his gaze flicks to the fruit, that laziness sharpens.

“…What is that.”

You barely get a second.

He moves fast.

One step—then his hand closes over yours, firm and unyielding, and just like that, the fruit is taken right out of your grip.

You don’t even get to answer.

He moves in one smooth step, hand closing over yours, firm and steady—and just like that, the fruit is gone. He hums, taking a big bite

No hesitation.

No second thought.

He bites.

“…Tch. Weird—”

Your eyes widen in shock. This time, you don’t hold back—you crash into him, grabbing his wrist, trying to force the fruit back toward you. Zoro lets out an annoyed scoff, bracing himself, but you’re already too close—too stubborn.

The struggle turns messy fast—your grip tightens, his balance shifts, and in the middle of it— You yank his hand closer.

And bite. Right into the fruit,a sharp pause.

Zoro freezes for half a second, eyes narrowing at you, something unreadable flashing across his face—

“…Tch.”

But then— Something’s off, His grip loosens.

Just slightly.

His brows knit together, expression tightening as he pulls his arm back, stepping away from you with a small, unsteady shift.

“…What the—”

He exhales sharply, bringing a hand up to his head, like something isn’t sitting right.

“…That’s… weird.”

Another step back, Then another.

Zoro doesn’t look at you this time—just turns, already walking off like he’s decided something.

“Don’t follow me,” he mutters, voice lower, rougher than before.

He disappears back through the jungle path toward the ship, movements a little less steady than usual, clearly heading straight for the men’s quarters—his hammock.

---

The Thousand Sunny

TIMESKIP

Zoro lays against the hammock, body hot and head pounding, he groans as he rubbed his temples.

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, brow furrowing immediately as discomfort hits all at once. His head pounds, heavy and disoriented, like the world is slightly off-balance beneath him. The usual steadiness he carries is… gone.

Like heat is sitting just under his skin, spreading slowly through his chest and limbs, unfamiliar and irritating.

Zoro shifts, the hammock creaking under him as he drags a hand down his face, trying to shake it off.

“…What the hell…”

His voice is rougher than usual, lower—strained.

He pushes himself up, but the moment he does, the dizziness hits again, sharper this time. His grip tightens on the edge of the hammock, muscles tensing as he steadies himself, jaw clenching hard.

He looks down, his eyes widen, as he looked at the strain of his trousers, leaking and throbbing, his trousers lifted due to how hard he was, he could see the veins on his cock..fuck.

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as he rolled his head back, all he could think about was how much it hurt, and you.

His eyes widened when he realized, that fruit was an aphrodisiac. He gritted his teeth, grinding down as he groaned.

He stands up, searching for you.