Hallo and welcome back! Thank you for still being here and for actually enjoying the last chapter!

I'm happy to inform you, that the writer's block is subdued for now, the next chapter is already done and after that I can finally take those chapters from the shelf that have been waiting there for ages. But of course it's not that easy, because now a new queston arises:

I think I mentioned it before, but I do plan on using the Wano arc in this fic. This chapter included the first Wano chapter would be in 7 chapters, sometime July/ August… the thing is, I think I'll reach that before Oda finishes the arc. Now I'm thinking about whether to pause the fic at that point and wait it out or to press on and do my own thing, continuity and canon be damned. Do you guys have any opinion on the matter?

As always a huge thank you to Rexica for betaing this mess… and to hot mead and KoЯn for the inspiration, because yes, this chapter, too, was a bitch to write.

Last time Robin enjoyed Zoro's more artistic side now it's time to clean up the mess… at least a little bit

Gods fuck, his woman was fucking perfect! Flicking his wrist, he cleaned Wadô of her blood, knowing he'd have to do a more thorough job soon. While he didn't particularly mind the idea of something of her marking the blade he had used to mark her, he knew he couldn't risk the blood corroding his weapon of choice.

Kitetsu had known they'd do it again after the first cut, had rested its protest in favour of grudging anticipation. He had known after the second. She hadn't just succumbed to him, resigned herself to receive his mark of ownership that both of them knew to be so much more than that. With a clear head, she knew that too, despite the words of her shameless begging. No, she hadn't just accepted, she had fucking thrived on the pain, on the sensation of skin giving way to steel. He could relate to that, enjoyed the bite himself, even though more often than not the blades tended to not stop at just his skin. It was better this way, too. He would have lost many battles if he were afraid of getting cut. Was different for her though. In extension of his profession, his dream, every cut and every wound was in a way received by choice. She had never been given a choice when pain was involved, and still, she had loved every inch of tearing skin. She had started to shiver in delight at the last cut, enough for him to steady her with his free hand.

He let her enjoy a bit longer, took one last lingering look at the beauty that was her bloody back before he washed his hands in the little sink Franky had provided.

With nothing but a tug, he loosened the rope tying her legs from the Weightplate so he could undo the knots. She didn't even seem to realise, gone somewhere far away in a land of bliss. It was time to get her back. He unbound her arms from the other plate, but kept the red rope tied around her wrists. She mewled when he pulled her slack body up and he was glad for his decision to keep the hands bound. Pulled them over his head and lifted her up at her thighs before sitting them down on the couch next to the kit he had prepared before, not caring that her cunt thoroughly drenched his robe now that she sat on his lap.

He leathered up some antibacterial soap of Chopper's in his hands, doing his hardest not to think about the kid doctor while Robin started to squirm over his trapped cock.

"Hold still."

She obeyed with a whine, slumped against him as her bound arms involuntarily hugged his neck. He could see the cuts perfectly over her shoulder, worked the foam over the wounds while he tried to steady her at the hip with the other hand. She keened at the burn, leaned back into his hands and pushed her perfect tits right in his face. He bit the offering in reprimand harder than he should have, he realised, when her hips started gyrating against his bulging cock. Fucking hells, how was he supposed to take care of her wounds if all he wanted to do was nail her to the fucking floor? Dug his fingers into her hip to steady her, grip as tight as it could be with soap and blood covering right about everything, and angled her face down to him with a bloody hand around her jaw. Fucking hells, she was beautiful. She stilled instantly; even if it was just subconsciously, she understood the gravity of his stare.

"You want me to fuck you, Robin, is that what you're trying to tell me?" he asked when some semblance of clarity returned to her gaze. He wasn't a patient man by any means, but fuck! Watching this genius woman taking literal minutes to figure out a simple yes or no question? Wouldn't tire of that any time soon. Never mind that she was hot as fuck, or even the fact that she gave her mind and body, her sanity in his hands to do as he pleased because she knew that he knew what was best for her… As much as it pleased him, as much as it would soothe the raging burn inside of him, fuck all that. Not that he needed the validation, but there was something so infinitely gratifying seeing her like that, showing that he indeed knew…

On a daily basis, she used all those fancy words that he couldn't even look up in a dictionary because he didn't even begin to comprehend their spelling…Fuck, the woman had roped him into cutting before he had even realised what it would mean for them. Good thing he wasn't new to this and actually into it. Didn't even want to imagine what she'd do to an equally slow but less stubborn partner... And now look at her, eyes slipping focus, mouth gaping, desperate to try and articulate a simple 'yes'.

"Come on, Robin, yes or no," he pressed, knowing full well that he wasn't helping her with that. She proved that with the pathetic whimper that followed. Frustration settled on her face, brows drawn and lower lip trembling like a fucking toddler. This grown woman whose brain intimidated even the world government, reduced to a quivering, pouting mess and slave to her basest instincts, by him who couldn't even understand her half of the time.

Finally, she managed a "yes, please", adding his honorific just in time to not deserve reprimand.

"Then quit moving and maybe you get my cock as a reward," he suggested and led her head down to rest against his right shoulder. While he finished cleaning the wounds and taped the cling film over them, she didn't move an inch, barely even breathed.

Whole room was a fucking mess, blood and sweat everywhere. And now that he had cleaned her wound, she didn't look much better, the blood that had already started to dry on her skin again wet from the water he'd used to wash off the soap. Fuck, he probably enjoyed the sight more than he should.

"There, all done, woman," he said and pushed her arm's length away. She smiled at him, clarity back in her gaze.

"Does that mean I can get that cock now, Zoro-sa~ma?" Her voice held a teasing edge that she wouldn't dare to utilize if he hadn't just broken the scene. Made him chuckle; she hadn't even needed any prompting for that foul word. Maybe he was rubbing of on her, his effort at educating her finally taking root.

"Damn right it does," he said as he undid the red rope around her wrists. Even for his tastes, there was enough red on her without it.

As soon as her hands were free, she tugged off his sash and undressed him. Just how the fuck was she this patient to not just jump him as he was? When she made to get up to push down his pants he stopped her, held her in place with her uninjured shoulder, but she wriggled free.

"No," she said, looking at him with so much certainty that he was sure lesser men would quiver before her feet. "I will see all of you this time."

She sat down next to him, not even trying to continue undressing him, just waiting, expecting him to do it himself. Holy fucking hells. He didn't usually allow his subs to order him around like that, but fuck, he did want to know where this was going.

"Careful, woman," he warned her even as he bowed to untie his boots. But she just smiled at him with that all knowing, cheeky smile of hers, hands gripping the edge of the bench as she leaned forward, eyes devouring every inch of skin he revealed while pulling down his pants.

He sat down on the bench, refusing to come to her. He was humoring her, yes, but he wouldn't come begging just because his cock was probably hard enough to rival his swords. She would come, could see the hunger and the need clear in her eyes, as he slumped back into the cushions. Waiting. They both appreciated the view for a few more moments before she finally caved and straddled him. His cock slid into her cunt without any resistance, only wet, hot, delicious friction. Her pace was agonizingly slow, and he probably deserved that for a few moments before he would inevitably take over.

On top of him she was moaning without shame, sweating, dancing. He dragged one bloody hand over her side, up to her perfect tit. Fucking hells, she was beautiful. Looked like some ancient goddess of war and wisdom, fuck.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as her cunt quivered around him. "I'm going to cum now," she told him. Didn't ask for permission, just informed him of the inevitable. He could follow if he wanted to, but she wouldn't wait for him. Fucking hells.

Grabbed her hips, bruising probably, drove himself into her, balls tight against his body. Abdominals clenching, feet straining against the floor. Fucking bliss, her cunt squeezing, milking as he emptied himself inside her. Gods, too fucking much.

She slumped down against him, panting, quivering. His cock softened inside of her, hot cum tickling down his balls. Hugged her to him, quiet. Gods her hair smelled good...

"How did you know?" She asked, and he wasn't quite sure if he'd nodded off for a moment or if it was one of her stray thoughts that had somehow evolved into elaborate theory that now needed confirmation.

"Know what?"

She pushed herself off his chest to look at him, her usually calm and all-knowing eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. "That this is what you're into? Did you just know or did you have some pivotal experience?"

He shrugged. Probably always been there, but if he had to pinpoint the moment… "I don't know, kind of stumbled into it by accident?"

She laughed, loud and unashamed. He had a feeling he should take offense that she laughed at him like that but found that in his post orgasmic haze he really couldn't care less…. She would tell him soon enough.

Once her laughter had died down.

"Stumbling into your own sexual identity really sounds like you, Kenshi-san."

"Well, you wanna hear it or not, ms archeologist," he countered with the roll of his eye… should have fucking known...

So I might have to disclose that I have no idea on how to treat a wound you want to scar, I found some online guides on how to treat your professionally done scarification piece and just went with those, if you have more information or find my account lacking please let me know. Like last time… what am I supposed to tell you about the safety of this stuff? Hygiene, hygiene, hygiene, don't do it in a dirty gym, use gloves and remember, this is fiction and not a guidebook. I'm taking liberties.

Let me know what you thought of this, let me know what I should do with the Wano bits and please if you have a penis, tell me what an orgasm feels like for you. I honestly have no idea how I always end up writing that from his POV… and everytime I tell myself "never again"... look how that turned out

Also, anybody wants to guess just what he cut into her skin?

See you next week!