Just Imagine it, you’re all snuggled up together on a Sunday afternoon, the sun is low in the sky, a warm golden glittery light filtering through the blinds. Zoro is shirtless, on his stomach with his broad back on display, and you mindlessly trace shapes over his shoulder blades.
The man looks at you lazily, eyes half lidded, the lower portion of his face covered by the pillow he’s all but smothering himself with.
Or perhaps your head is resting on his chest, feeling his warmth and taking in the sound of his heartbeat as he softly cards his fingers through your hair.
If you talk too much he’ll lift your jaw upwards to kiss him softly before playfully pushing you back to your place on his chest, muttering
“Go to sleep motor-mouth, I’m too tired for pillow talkin’.”