scone: (Default)
ꜱᴀɴᴊɪ. ([personal profile] scone) wrote2024-06-10 03:02 pm

— SALTBURNT INBOX.



WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

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LOVECOOK


text ❖ audio ❖ video


berrying: (pic#17094321)

[personal profile] berrying 2024-07-15 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
( immediately, zoro's face starts to lose the i-don't-give-a-fuck war, mouth drawing into a scowl the moment the cook starts fucking — bitching at him. what the hell is he doing here? what kind of stupid fucking question is that? there's an equally pissy response sitting right on the tip of his tongue, but he practically bites it off to keep it from coming out.

if this shitty cook were normal, he'd apologize and, as previously requested, fuck off. unfortunately, sanji isn't normal, so — even after a pretty valiant attempt at ignoring him, the bitching continues, this time far closer to him, accented words burrowing somewhere uncomfortable in his mind. annoyed, zoro finally blinks his eyes open and turns his head to glare at this shithead and he's met with —

too much skin. muscled thighs. a cock that zoro's never really looked at before that he looks at for far longer than he probably should, considering they're not —

up a little higher, and there's two pretty blue eyes glaring down at him, perfectly in tact, unobscured by his typical blonde swoop of bangs. if zoro's face is red, it's because of the god damn water he's sitting in that's radiating heat. honestly, if he didn't think it would feel like a victory for sanji, he'd probably sink into its fucking depths, beneath the bubbles haphazardly floating on top. )


Yeah, no. Not happening. ( blasé is always better when it comes to the cook. drawing his arms into the water, he rolls his eyes before closing them again, unbothered as hell besides the annoying thump of his heart in his chest. ) Try again. Or, better yet — don't.
berrying: (pic#16782635)

[personal profile] berrying 2024-07-22 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
( this kind of feels like a test — a test of zoro's willpower, or something, to see if he'll cave, if he'll react. he wishes he had the wado here, resting beside the bathtub within arm's reach, so he could slice this shithead's dick off. he wishes this shithead would just sink into the water with him, sit between his thighs and lean back against him so that maybe he could wrap his arms around his middle the way they used to sometimes sleep.

it's a test that zoro's really trying not to fail, even if it means lounging there beneath the bubbles with his eyes closed and his mouth quirking downwards with displeasure, like if he keeps his mouth shut, the cook will actually leave him the fuck alone. it's a stupid thought, considering how good sanji's been at leaving him the fuck alone over the past few weeks — why bother now? his frown only deepens.

apparently, it's futile, because before he knows it, the cook's sticking his feet in the water next to him and setting down his stupid little basket of fancy bottles of whatever-the-hell that zoro finally turns his head to eyeball. what ever happened to a good old fashioned bar of soap rubbed over his skin and on top of his head? stupid. )
Hey, w—

( zoro's too busy mentally complaining to resist the veritable baptism he's given by sanji's hand, emerging from the depths of the water with a huff of a breath and green hair wet and flattened on top of his head. it stuns him into silence, radiating the quiet fury of the pissy cat that he once was until — there are hands in his hair, massaging shampoo that smells a little too good through the strands and over his scalp.

now, instead of a test, it feels kind of like a set-up. had nami said something to him? zoro hasn't really said anything to nami about what happened; he's just refused to bring the cook up first in conversation, occasionally refused to sleep in his own bedroom because the distance between them felt too big and yet not remotely big enough and nami's still his lifeline, even without their connection.

he wants to be mad, but it's hard to be when sanji's hands feel so annoyingly good as he washes zoro's hair for him, make the part of his throat that might've rumbled with contentment in another life feel hollow. the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and finally ... he tips his head back, looking up at the cook in his silly little headband with pathetically tired eyes and just asking: )
Why?
berrying: (pic#17094320)

[personal profile] berrying 2024-08-01 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
( there's a part of zoro that wants to bristle at sanji's answer — nobody has to take care of him, which might be true, but nami and sanji still find ways to do it anyway. maybe it was more true in the village than here, where almost any need can be met at the snap of fingers, but —

it's obvious that they still need each other, because sanji's right. there is something wrong with this place, and zoro won't admit it, but with luffy here now, there's a part of him that's gotten a little comfortable, too. he's stuck following the tedium of his daily routines, bookended so nicely by daily egg breakfasts and nightly black tie dinners. he lets out a long sigh, chin tipping up a little as sanji's fingers toy with his earrings, trace over his collarbones, linger there. the last time sanji touched him, it was his hands gripping his shoulder blades, tips of his nails indenting into his skin, thighs tightening around him, gasping against his mouth —

i need you with me. he's said it before, zoro's said it before, and they'll both probably say it again. it's the truth, and right now, it's probably as close to an apology for ... whatever the fuck happened that first weekend in sanji's bedroom. puke. cake. tears and harsh words. a sealed bottle of wine. the warm water courses over his shoulders, and he hums his assent. it's pretty fucking worrying that sanji finds this place more terrifying than the last, but zoro's learned to take things one at a time with the cook. it's a thought that he's holding onto for now, though, not remotely done with it.)


C'mere.

( and it's certainly less than graceful, but zoro uses the lip of the bathtub to push himself up and onto his knees, definitely sloshing bubbles and water onto the floor in the process, turning around to face sanji. placid as ever, zoro's wet hands reach up and cup sanji's cheeks to guide his face down, his chin craning up so he he can place perhaps the softest, gentlest kiss against his lips. lingering: )

It's still warm — you should get in.