#lovehungered

[johannehochloff]

the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood.

But they cradled me, yes?

[jigoku-no-marimo]

Soft gestures + 6

It was a weakness. It was a weakness and Sanji was blatantly exploiting it.

Afternoon naps in the shade of tangerine trees were the absolute best. The gentle rocking of the ship, the sound of waves around the hull, the way the sun peaked through the branches to make it *just* warm enough, it all worked to ease him into a more restful sleep. Only one thing would make it better.

And there it was.

A light touch began to run through his short locks, neatly trimmed nails gently scratching his scalp. A soft hum of contentment escaped the swordsman before he even began to wake. Yes, he had been compared to a cat many times and this did nothing to argue against the claims.

The blades tucked at his side began to sing softly, comfortable with the presence, as a single grey eye cracked open and automatically found the Cook. "Mmmnnn... decided to come make yourself useful?" There was no bite to his words and Zoro even found himself leaning more into the touch.

They hadn't exactly told the rest of the crew about what was going on between them, but they were absolute shit at trying to hide it. For now, they had the ship to themselves as the rest explored the island.

[healingbrews]

Also oops forgot to post this old drawing with @lovehungered's Sanji

[arcticapex]

Fer and who lmao

[king-and-his-consorts]

@lovehungered | Cont. from x

After all this time, it still made him incredulous the ridiculous messes the cook always seemed on a crash course towards. It was downright pathetic how this fool's addiction to feminine attention was becoming a continued danger to the crew's safety.

"My problem is that if you can't keep your brain out of your pants. You could compromise the safety of the crew. And I can't have that." Zoro hissed back. Still, he allowed himself to be moved back from the cook a bit. He was still blocking his crewmate from exiting the alley but the bubble of personal space was allowed to grow between them once again.

"Embarrassing as being with you might be, I won't let your stupidity put the crew in danger, Cook." Zoro's grip on the hilt of Wado creaked slightly. A muscle in his arm flexing as he kept himself from forcibly cornering the chef once more. "If your antics get either of us recognized, it could alert people we're in town. the others still need rest. Don't blow this for them."

His eye narrowed at the blond. Fixing the other man with a hard stare. Still, he reached into his haramaki and pulled out the small slumbering snail. The tiny creature was held out towards the cook. Knowing the snail would be well cared for in the cook's hands, Zoro let his attention flow out of the alley. He looked on into the crowd beyond.

They were too far from the docks (judging by how Zoro hadn't been able to see ships from the street). If they were going to be getting more groceries before they left, Sanji was going to have to behave. This damn town had too many women running around it. A startling amount really, now that Zoro thought about it.

"What did that witch say?" He grunted, turning back to Sanji.

[hellkings-a]

@lovehungered

ㅤ  ㅤㅤWANO  IS  A  PLACE  OF  HIDDEN  TUMULT  -  BUT  ONE  zoro  had  taken  to  like  a  duck  to  a  water.  it  was  no  surprise  -  given  his  lineage.  shimotsuki's  culture  was  a  mirror  to  the  nation's  rich  traditions,  and  many  things  reminded  the  swordsman  of  the  place  he  came  from.  the  style  of  dress,  the  deftly  wielded  swordsmanship,  and  the  food  -  so  blatantly  similar  to  the  slightest  memories  he'd  had  of  his  mother's  cooking,  taste  and  texture  a  evoking  visions  of  her  bright  green  hair,  the  softness  of  her  hands.  he  often  thought  too  of  the  okonomiyaki  or  yakitori  shared  with  kuina  -  split  clean  down  the  middle  as  they  strolled  through  the  small  village's  market,  arguing  as  children  always  do,  until  he  finished  his  first  and  she  always  gave  him  a  little  extra.  memories,  memories,  memories  -  they  swirl  and  whirl,  a  tapestry  of  emotion  zoro  is  too  tired  to  digest,  especially  because  one  of  the  meals  reminding  him  of  it  all  in  the  first  place  was  served  by  their  cook.

ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ  ㅤㅤhis  cook.

ㅤ  ㅤㅤzoro  had  stared  and  stared  at  the  food  before  him  -  steaming  miso  broth  with  tofu,  perfectly  cooked  rice,  and  the  gindara  no  saikyo-yaki  emitting  a  delicious  aroma.  it  wasn't  until  luffy  had  made  a  grab  for  his  fish  that  zoro  had  begun  to  eat  -  cheeks  ballooning  with  the  rapid  fire  consumption  (  and  taste  )  of  the  dishes.  he'd  gone  for  seconds,  of  course,  and  even  thirds  -  sake  keeping  him  warm  and  pairing  nicely  with  the  fish.  a  full  belly  later,  and  zoro  still  found  himself  in  discontent  -  tucked  away  in  a  corner  as  the  strawhat's  and  locals  proceeded  with  merriment  as  always.  he  stared  and  stared  now  at  the  cook  -  at  the  fit  of  his  yukata  -  the  inviting  dip  of  his  neckline,  the  peeking  of  his  clavicle.  he  hadn't  thought  to  really  corner  him  yet.  no  true  discussions  beyond  what  was  already  heavy.  zoro's  emotional  intelligence  did  not  lend  too  well  to  what  he  wanted  from  sanji  -  what  he  needed  to  say.  so  he  said  nothing,  and  rotted  away.

ㅤ  ㅤㅤlater  that  night  -  after  the  rest  of  the  crew  had  departed  for  bed,  zoro  finds  himself  seated  on  the  walkway,  facing  the  innermost  gardens,  next  to  the  cook.  sake  flows  freely  once  again  -  each  of  their  vices  nurtured  like  a  virtue,  their  bodies  nudged  a  little  too  close  to  be...  anything  but  magnetic.  beneath  the  moonlight  -  sanji  and  his  golden  hair  paint  a  picture  of  something  angelic,  and  zoro  feels  his  heart  squeeze,  a  familiar  sensation  of  relief...  of  yearning...  of  desire,  curling  in  his  gut  alongside  the  warmth  of  alcohol.  maybe  it  was  all  their  time  apart,  maybe  it  was  realizing  that  sanji  could  be  flighty  -  fleeting,  but  never  with  the  crew.  regardless,  it  has  zoro  reaching  outwards,  calloused  fingertips  dipping  along  the  bare  nape  of  his  neck  like  a  promise.

ㅤ  ㅤㅤzoro  wonders  if  sanji  could  abandon  that  flightiness  for  him,  if  his  touch  was  a  frightful  thing,  especially  as  his  hand  strokes  over  a  shoulder,  pushing  fabric  aside  until  it  dips  along  a  strong  bicep,  flesh  bared,  so  he  can  feel  the  warmth  of  his  skin.  ㅤ  ㅤㅤ❝ this... ❞ㅤ  ㅤㅤ  a  silvery  grey  eye,  stormy  with  something  unseen,  fixates  on  the  other,  ㅤ  ㅤㅤ❝ looks  amazing  on  you. ❞

[a0kiji]

‘ah. i'm not stealing, i promise.’

the ship rocks peacefully. it's a quiet night, and everyone, as far as kuzan knows, is sleeping. that's quite insane when he thinks about it—no less than two years ago from his hands bloomed the ice walls that strawhat desperately tried to scale to get to his brother, and they all must remember the chill settling in their bones when they met in water seven. well, things change. things change so much kuzan is now slipping into their kitchen as they give him a lift to dressrosa. he adjusts his shades over the bridge of his nose with a flick of his gloved fingers. ‘is there anywhere around here where a thirsty man could find something to drink, mr cook?’

@lovehungered, starter call.

[a11sunday]

from: continuation verse: canon divergent main.

honey-hued gaze meets his, then watches as @lovehungered settles, suavely offering a drink. she hesitates,  then gives a soft nod.  “a mango jalapeno margarita. perhaps you’d also like to give it a try.”  

in between missions, she introduced him to a number of delicacies and specialties in the island’s cuisine. it had become a topic they could both indulge in outside of the tasks they were assigned with. today’s rendezvous, however, was not one of those times. 

her sight gifted her with the knowledge that her underground friends, the tontattas, were hard at work devising a plan to aid in the freedom of the country. then, there was the matter of the strawhats, a ship and crew she was tasked to be on the lookout for. she’s read of their exploits in the papers,  but she wasn’t sure what she read could be believed given that the media could certainly be twisted by the wrong influences. whether they would worsen the situation on the island or aid it was yet to be seen. viola would remain wary until then and play the part. 

“there is a ship nearing the shore along the east side of the island. i believe it’s the shipment doflamingo has been waiting for, but there seems to be an issue amongst the crew.  i can’t quite make it out yet,  they’ll have to get closer for me to get a better understanding of what might be the problem.  –we should handle it.”   

while her father’s pacifist ideals had rubbed off on her growing up, circumstances changed.  she’s changed.  

still, these never-ending errands that often resulted in bloodshed did not result in any pleasure. it was but a duty to perform. 

“do you…”  her gaze drops to the table,  looking down at her hands, palms face down atop the rustic surface.  “do you not tire of it?  this life.”