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“Here, mosshead. You better not waste any.”
Zoro rolls his eyes but accepts another large banana leaf full of fried tubers without complaint. Several leaves already rest next to him in the sand, only residual traces of grilled fish and steamed crab and fleshy yellow fruit still stuck to the makeshift serving platters.
“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro mumbles, popping one of the warm tubers into his mouth. The flavor is mild and starchy, and the texture is pleasantly crunchy from the pig fat Sanji used to fry the thin slices over the fire. Unsurprisingly, it’s delicious.
Zoro doesn’t tell Sanji that, of course. Instead, he just stretches out in the warm sand and munches on slice after slice from the massive pile Sanji handed him. He’s already well past full, but the tubers are tasty and he can feel the cook’s eyes watching him with nervous interest. Zoro just eats and lets him watch.
It took him a while to figure out what was going on with Sanji after they first washed up on this island a few weeks ago. A monstrous storm had destroyed their errand ship and left them both coughing up seawater on a strange beach. Zoro hadn’t been overly concerned about being shipwrecked at the time—sure, they were probably stuck on this tiny, uninhabited spit of land until the rest of the Straw Hats reconvened, realized they were missing and came to find them. It would probably be a couple of months, realistically speaking, but Zoro had no doubt the witch would find them and the crew would come. It was just a matter of biding their time until then.
Besides, the island may be small and boring, but it wasn’t all bad. Cerulean blue water lapped up on beautiful white sand beaches all the way around the coast, and the interior of the island was thickly covered in a lush, green jungle bursting with a wide variety of flora and fauna. Zoro spent enough years sleeping rough and living hand-to-mouth as a bounty hunter to recognize a place where he’d been able to find plenty of food and water to sustain himself for a while.
Strangely, despite his encyclopedic knowledge of edible plants and food preservation methods, the cook didn’t seem to share his certainty.
Sanji spent their first few days on the island grinding stalks of wild grass between his teeth and snapping at Zoro more than usual as he demanded the swordsman help him gather an absurd number of coconuts and tropical fruits.
At first, Zoro thought it was just sunburn and lack of nicotine ratcheting the cook’s bitchiness up to maximum intensity—Zoro understood the latter well enough, as his own head throbbed and stomach soured from the sudden lack of booze—but his prickly energy only seemed to grow worse as the days wore on.
Even after they dragged the remaining hull of their ship up to the edge of the tree line and devised it into a cozy little makeshift shelter, Sanji barely slept. More than once, Zoro woke in the middle of the night to find Sanji taking stock of their food stores, hands shaking as they ran over piles and piles of supplies. During the day, he alternated between fishing, scavenging, cooking and storing food, stubbornly refusing to ever take a break or spar with Zoro as he ran through training exercises on the beach.
The one time Zoro tried to ask him what the fuck was going on with him, he half hoped Sanji would answer honestly and half hoped he’d aim a flaming kick towards Zoro’s head to finally give him something interesting to do. Instead, Sanji went pale beneath his sunburn and reached up to tug nervously on his golden hair.
“Fuck off. I’m just pissed I’m stuck on this useless hunk of rock with no women and only a mannerless meathead for company,” he answered unconvincingly, turning away to fill another banana leaf with succulent pork from a small pig Zoro killed earlier. Sanji had roasted it in a pit he dug in the ground, wrapping the beast in thick, glossy leaves and letting it smoke under a fire all day until the meat was tender and flavorful. It was so delicious that Zoro accepted the second serving when Sanji handed it to him despite having already eaten his fill.
The pork was moist and fatty, and Zoro was so distracted shoveling bites into his mouth that he didn’t notice Sanji watching him from across the fire until he was almost done. Zoro ate far past the point of hunger, stomach grumbling but taste buds too delighted to ignore. Without a decent fight or booze to distract him, food was one of his only options for entertainment, so Zoro let himself enjoy it. He only glanced up briefly as he was sucking grease off his fingers and finally noticed the blue eye locked on him.
Sanji’s expression had softened, and his visible eye looked content as he watched Zoro eat. The constant nervous energy that had plagued him since they landed on this island was finally absent as he watched Zoro enjoy the pork, his shoulders sagging in obvious relief.
Oh, Zoro thought, and immediately felt like a moron for not putting it together sooner.
Zoro’s stomach felt stretched and overfull, but he finished the pork anyway. Muffling a burp at the end, he immediately stretched out for a post-meal nap.
Sanji grumbled something about lazy bastards with no manners, but his hands were steady as he cleaned up their meal.
He fell asleep quickly that night, curled on his side an arm’s length away from Zoro, and slept solidly through the night.
After that, Zoro made sure to eat ravenously at every meal, subtly watching for the moment the tension started to ease from Sanji’s shoulders before he let himself even consider slowing down. It was hardly a hardship. The island was bountiful, and Sanji was truly excellent at what he did, as much as Zoro would die before telling him that. They dove for crabs and conch and sea urchin, fished and hunted and gathered from the jungle, and in the evenings, Sanji would prepare them feasts from their spoils. Zoro gorged himself on ceviche and steamed crab and grilled fish, dug into more pork from the fire pit, and indulged in starchy root vegetables and acidic fruits. Sanji watched him eat with that softening look in his eyes each time, finally relaxing when Zoro stuffed himself so full he could barely move afterwards.
They passed weeks this way, filling their days with gathering food to stave off boredom and indulging in the evenings until Zoro passed out with an overfull full belly and the sight of Sanji’s content gaze warming his insides.
By the time Sanji hands him the banana leaf full of fried tubers, Zoro barely thinks about it as he stuffs them in his mouth. It’s second nature at this point.
Sanji’s anxiety seems to have lessened somewhat as Zoro consistently indulged in his meals, but he still watches him with strange intensity as he eats. Zoro doesn’t lie to himself as a rule, so he’s forced to admit that somewhere along the line he started to enjoy it. Sanji gaze on him, the neediness in his eyes, even the absurd amount of food itself—Zoro likes all of it.
So he keeps eating the fried tubers even as he had to muffle a couple burps between bites, hand rubbing his unsettled belly. It’s grown a little rounded in recent weeks, the formerly hard ridges of his abs hidden beneath a soft pad of fat. It’s a little embarrassing to look at during the day, jiggling slightly as he trains, but Zoro does get a strange satisfaction out of the way it goes taught and round when he packs it full of food for Sanji in the evening. It feels like an accomplishment somehow, especially when Sanj’s eyes seem drawn to it more and more the rounder it gets.
Sanji watches his hand stroke over it now, cheeks pink and eyes softening into that warm, content look Zoro loves.
He finishes off the tubers and immediately flops back into the sand, hand falling to the side to drop the banana leaf with all the others. His abdomen is visibly convex even when he’s flat on his back, and Zoro barely resists the urge to make an uncomfortable noise at how packed-full he feels.
“Useless lump,” Sanji grumbles as he towers over him to collect the leaves. Zoro lies sprawled at his feet, gut gurgling and body heavy in the sand, and something about the position makes Zoro feel both pathetic and deliciously warm. For one wild moment, he kind of hopes Sanji will step on him.
“’S your fault,” he mumbles petulantly, shoving that thought aside with a vengeance.
Sanji’s blue eye meets his for a split second, and there’s something simmering in his gaze that pierces through Zoro. Sanji looks pleased with himself—pleased with Zoro—and it washes over Zoro like a tidal wave of warmth and determination.
Zoro knows how to pursue what he wants, and what he wants in that moment is to ensure Sanji continues looking at him that way. He wants to keep Sanji’s gaze locked on him and filled with more satisfaction and contentment than he knows what to do with. He wants to make it as impossible for him to look away from Zoro as it’s always been for Zoro to look away from him.
It’s not a new desire for Zoro, as far as Sanji goes—he’s wanted the handsome blond to look at him since he saw him dive after a fishman in Arlong Park and wanted to give Sanji pleasure and safety and his heart of a silver platter since at least Water 7—but he finally feels like he knows a way to achieve at least one of those desires.
Rubbing his abdomen thoughtfully as he starts to doze off, Zoro resolves to put the rest of their time stuck on this island to good use.
⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°-
“More?” Sanji asks, cocking one of his ridiculous eyebrows.
Zoro belches loudly, both hands resting on his swollen gut where it balloons out in front of him. When he’s done, he smacks his lips and gazes up at the cook eagerly.
“Bring it, cook,” he pants, barely able to breathe properly through his over-stuffed abdomen. His gut gurgles loudly, struggling to digest the massive amount of food he’s already consumed tonight, but he ignores it. He can take more. Hell, he’s still hungry.
Sanji eyes him where he’s sprawled out in the sand, legs spread to accommodate his heavy belly, and Zoro feels heat surge through him. The cook’s expression is outwardly derisive, but that spark of satisfaction is hotter than ever in his gaze as he looks at the mess Zoro’s made of himself.
“Pig,” he mutters, but his lips twitch as he scoops out another heaping portion of dinner for him.
Zoro feels a confusing burst of embarrassment and pleasure, trying to shift his swollen body and immediately giving up when it causes him to hiccup pathetically. His stomach bounces where it rests heavily in the sand between his spread thighs. He’s shirtless, like he always is since he outgrew his only shirt weeks ago, and it only makes the sight of his fat body spilling everywhere look especially lewd.
They’ve been on the island for months now—Sanji keeps track of exactly how many days have passed, but Zoro can’t be bothered—and Zoro’s body has rapidly become a testament to his dedication to pleasing the cook. It bears little resemblance to the strong, athletic figure he’d cut when they first wrecked here, gut prominent and pecs starting to plump and soften. His lower belly jiggles and bounces when he walks and rests heavily in his lap when he sits, a constant reminder of what he’s done to himself.
Zoro finally gave up training weeks ago as his fat stomach grew so large and heavy that it threw off his balance. Soon after, he noticed he was starting to get winded just moving about the island. Distantly, Zoro knows he’ll have to train harder than ever when they’re back aboard the Sunny to get back to where he was before the shipwreck, but he doesn’t mind. Hard work has never scared him.
Besides, it’s worth it for the way Sanji’s anxiety lessens more and more as Zoro’s belly grows. It never fully disappears, but it takes less effort to assuage his nervous gaze now, and the satisfaction in his eyes only grows stronger and sweeter with time. Zoro quickly becomes addicted to it, becomes addicted to the rush of Sanji’s gorgeous blue eyes watching him with blatant approval even as his tongue remains as sharp as ever.
Most surprising of all, Zoro becomes truly addicted to the food.
The more he eats, the more he wants.
At first, he eats far beyond his appetite on purpose, ignoring it in favor of achieving his goals with the cook. Still, somewhere along the line, his appetite begins to grow too, rising to meet the challenge. His hunger swells along with his gut, a positive feedback loop that quickly spirals out of control.
Zoro’s hunger is insatiable now, and Sanji seems more than happy to fill their days with a nearly endless stream of snacks and drinks and huge, elaborate meals. He gathers most of the food himself now and brings it back to Zoro with an eager sparkle in his eye, even as he grumbles at him about spending most of his days doing little more than stuffing his face and napping off his massive meals in the sun. Zoro accepts the teasing with a strange heat in his belly and eagerly awaits whatever delicious concoction Sanji will bring him next.
So it’s unsurprising when Sanji hands him a banana leaf piled ridiculously high with fish steaks cooked with coconut and citrus even as he calls Zoro pig.
Zoro’s gut is so heavy and bloated that even reaching up to accept the fresh food jars it uncomfortably, and he belches again. Sanji’s used to the aftereffects of Zoro’s gorging himself at this point, so he just rolls his eyes and sits down next to him where Zoro leans against the side of their makeshift shelter. It helps to stabilize his heavy body in the sand even as he leans forward to stuff food eagerly into his mouth.
The fish is a dense, reddish-orange variety, and it’s absolutely delicious with the coconut and acidic fruit. Zoro groans through the first mouthful, ignoring his rumbling belly as he shovels more into his mouth until his cheeks bulge. He barely feels like he can chew and swallow fast enough, even as body screams in protest.
“Pace yourself, idiot,” Sanji fusses, resting a hand on Zoro’s sweaty back and rubbing. “You’re going to choke.”
Sanji touching him while he eats is a relatively new but very welcome development. He’d been so tentative the first time, reaching out to help Zoro brace himself after a particularly massive meal left him swaying uncomfortably in place. Now he does it more often than not, sitting close and touching him in some light, comforting way as Zoro approaches his limits.
His hand is calloused and warm on Zoro’s back now, and it sends shivers of pleasure through Zoro’s overstuffed, over-sensitized body.
Zoro eats through his umpteenth enormous serving of food today, even as he struggles to swallow another morsel into his massively overfilled stomach. By the time he reaches the last few pieces, he pants desperately between bites, too full to burp and barely resisting the urge to whine on every exhale.
He’s so incredibly full, fuller than he’s ever been as he tilts the last of the food into his greedy mouth. The second he swallows, an uncomfortable moan pours out of him.
He desperately needs to burp some of the pressure out of his painfully bloated stomach, but he’s just too full, packed to the absolute limit. He wants to shift to relieve the pressure, to try to loosen the air bubbles gurgling in his gut along with all the food, but his body feels too heavy and his gut too sloshy to move. His abdomen feels like an overripe fruit, threatening to burst at the slightest touch.
Sanji’s hand rubs comfortingly between his shoulder blades as Zoro pants uncomfortably.
“Geez, look at what you’ve done to yourself,” Sanji sighs, exasperated but gentler than he usually allows himself to be with Zoro.
Zoro cautiously reaches up to rest his hands on his massively distended stomach where it spills out in front of him. He rubs cautiously, trying to soothe the angry rumbling inside but scared to apply any real pressure.
A sudden, hard hiccup wracks his body and makes his stomach bounce between his legs.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans uncomfortably, squeezing his eye shut. He immediately hiccups again and can’t quite contain a pained sound this time.
Sanji’s hand leaves his back, and Zoro whimpers before he can stop himself.
To his immense surprise, Sanji wedges himself between Zoro’s back and their shelter, legs bracketing either side of Zoro’s body. Zoro starts to make a confused noise before another painful hiccup rocks through him.
“Come here, you fool,” Sanji mumbles, though he sounds a little uncertain as he touches Zoro’s shoulder to encourage him to lean back.
Zoro doesn’t know what’s happening, but he’s horribly uncomfortable and the man he’s been obsessed with for years is asking to touch him. Besides, he trusts Sanji. It’s an easy decision.
He cautiously slumps back into Sanji’s chest, moving slowly to avoid jarring his massive belly too much. Sanji’s chest is warm and comfortable, and his hands immediately come up to join Zoro’s on his distended, painful gut. Zoro exhales shakily as Sanji helps him rub soothingly over his stomach after another hard hiccup jolts through him. Sanji’s hands are paler and narrower than Zoro’s own, but they’re also long and wonderfully calloused from years in the kitchen. They look beautiful on Zoro’s tan skin and the sight sends tingles of pleasant sensation peeking through his intense discomfort.
“Look how big you’ve gotten,” Sanji marvels softly as he cups his belly. He sounds distant and contemplative, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud as he traces Zoro’s fat belly with gentle hands. “I didn’t realize… but look at you.”
The hot rush of paradoxical embarrassment-pleasure streams through Zoro from head to toe, warming his face. It temporarily distracts him from his painfully overstuffed stomach, so he isn’t ready for it when Sanji’s strong hands suddenly start kneading his flabby middle with intent.
A pained grunt tries to escape Zoro’s throat, but it’s immediately interrupted by an audible gurgle followed by a massive belch erupting from deep in his gut. Sanji uses his grip to jiggle Zoro’s belly as he burps long and hard, loosening as much gas as he can from inside him. Zoro trails off into an almost orgasmic moan, relief pouring through his body. His own hands fall to the side to let Sanji knead and shake his belly however he wants, and he barely manages to inhale before he’s burping uncontrollably again.
“What a fucking wreck,” Sanji says as Zoro burps and jiggles helplessly beneath his hands. Zoro wants to argue, wants to pull himself back together and stop humiliating himself in Sanji’s arms, but he just can’t stop burping and moaning in relief.
It just feels so good.
Sanji cups his hands under Zoro’s heavy belly and lifts, kneading the ample fat there as he pushes it upwards.
“AaaWOOORP! Uugh… fuck. Boooorrp-HIC!”
Zoro reaches up to cover Sanji’s hands with his own as he dissolves into a complete mess of belches and hiccups, squeezing them desperately. He’s flopped heavily back into Sanji now, and his eye slips shut as his head thumps back onto his shoulder.
“Hic-ccuuUURP.”
Sanji stops squeezing and jiggling Zoro’s belly when his desperate belches finally trail off, though he leaves his hands there to stroke soothingly over of the distended flesh as he rests.
Zoro pants, feeling like he’s just survived a tough battle or had a particularly intense orgasm. Distantly, he notices his cock is hard and leaking in his pants. Thankfully his massive belly hides that problem from Sanji’s gaze.
Fuck, he thinks with feeling. He feels like a wrung-out towel.
Sanji shifts slightly behind him, settling Zoro’s head under his chin and his weight more comfortably in his arms.
“What a pig you’ve become, mosshead,” Sanji muses, jiggling Zoro’s belly again until a little burp erupts from his mouth without his permission to prove his point.
Zoro’s face must be bright red even as his traitorous cock twitches in his pants.
“Fuck off,” he mumbles. “’S your fault.”
Sanji snorts.
“Please. I’ve never been able to make you do shit,” he points out dryly.
Zoro’s too content and full and turned-on to think about what he’s saying before he opens his mouth.
“You’re enjoying it though.”
Sanji’s hands freeze on his stomach, and Zoro abruptly realizes that was the absolute wrong thing to say. Sanji’s mind is a minefield of stupid hangups on a good day, and directly acknowledging whatever fucked-up shit led them to this point seems like a sure-fire way to get him to freak out and put a stop to it.
With a lurch, Zoro realizes how desperately he doesn’t want this to end. The little bubble they’ve created on this island will have to pop eventually—probably soon, by Zoro’s estimation—but he’s desperate to stay inside it with Sanji for just a little while longer. Zoro wants to spend however much time they have left here being fed and touched and teased and gazed at with warm eyes.
Sanji tenses behind him, and Zoro braces himself to be kicked or screamed at or abandoned altogether. He’s in no state to fight back, physically or emotionally, so all he can really do is take it with whatever dignity he has left.
Instead of doing any of that, Sanji clears his throat and taps his fingers nervously on Zoro’s belly.
“Well… well is that so bad?” he finally says. It sounds like he’s aiming for a cocky proclamation but lands somewhere closer to a genuine question.
A flood of warmth that has nothing to do with his slowly softening cock or overstuffed belly rushes though Zoro’s veins and he burrows pointedly into Sanji’s arms. His heart is suddenly light with hope in his chest.
“Nah,” he answers simply.
After a beat, Sanji relaxes behind him, arms tightening their hold.
“Nah, he says,” Sanji grumbles pressing his chin into Zoro’s hair. “You’re the pinnacle of romance, mossball, do you know that?”
Romance. Is that what they’re doing? Certainly not in the classic sense of chocolates and roses and all the other prissy shit Sanji’s always going on about. But the man Zoro’s wanted for years is finally holding him, and they’ve been building a weird little life together on this island, despite everything. Zoro misses the rest of the crew and the Sunny and fighting and alcohol, but he’s been some version of content here. He thinks Sanji has been too, once his anxiety settled and he knew they weren’t going to starve.
They’ve been enough for each other on this desolate little spit of land for months and months.
That feels more like romance to Zoro than disgustingly sweet chocolates or useless flowers anyway.
Curling his arms along Sanji’s, Zoro sighs and rests bonelessly against his chest. His gut is still desperately stuffed and sore where it spills out in front of him, and sleeping off his overindulgence in Sanji’s arms sounds like heaven. If the crisis of nearly talking about their feelings is over, he’s ready for a nap.
“I’m gonna have to deal with this when we’re back on the Sunny, you know,” he mumbles sleepily, squeezing Sanji’s hands where the rest over his massive belly so he knows what he’s talking about.
Sanji snorts into his hair and rubs his thumb over Zoro’s flab affectionately.
“No shit,” he says. Then more seriously, “I’ll make sure you don’t fuck it up. Healthy meals and sparring and whatnot.”
Affection pools in Zoro’s belly, even as a part of him mourns the time limit on what they’re doing here. At first, he was just engaging in this strange little ritual for Sanji’s sake, but now… he’s going to miss this shared insanity of theirs. He’s going to miss focusing on nothing more than indulging himself and pleasing Sanji in the process, spending his days flushed with pleasure and so packed full of food he can barely do more than nap to renew his strength for the next meal. Zoro’s life has been hard and driven for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t regret that, but this soft interlude has been surprisingly welcome.
Still, he has titles to earn and battles to win for the future Pirate King. Zoro doesn’t give a shit how he looks, but he needs his body to be strong and capable. Overindulging himself to the point where he can barely stand and waddle into the jungle to take a piss without getting winded isn’t going to work for him in the long run. So it’ll be a little sad to say goodbye to their time here and all the pleasures he discovered on this island, but it’s back to reality once the Sunny arrives.
Sanji presses a kiss to his hair as Zoro starts to doze, and his lips curl softly.
As he drifts off to sleep, Zoro hopes at least a few of the pleasures he found here are his to keep.
⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°-
The Sunny arrives on a clear blue morning less than a week later with all the expected yelling and fanfare.
Sanji hauls Zoro down to the beach by the hand when he spots it, thankfully too busy waving excitedly to Luffy to notice Zoro huffing and jiggling as he struggles to keep up. The cook’s legs are long, and it’s been a while since Zoro’s moved this fast.
By the time the ocean laps over their feet, Luffy’s sling-shotting himself to shore, a screaming Usopp and sobbing Chopper tucked under each arm. He crashes into the surf right in front of them, cackling as Usopp spits out sand and saltwater next to him.
“Sanji! Zoro! There you are!” Luffy says as he barrels into their space eagerly.
“It’s good to see you, captain,” Sanji greets with one of his rare, wide-eyed smiles. It’s the one that makes him look golden and boyish and ruined Zoro’s life a few years back. “It’s good to see all of you.”
“No shit,” Zoro drawls, though he’s smiling too.
“God damn,” Usopp says, eyes widening at the sight of him.
“Wow, Zoro, you got really fat!” Luffy greets, pushing his hat out of his eyes and laughing. He sounds positively delighted. “You must have eaten lots of yummy food while you were here.”
Zoro snorts.
“Oh no! I need to do a full checkup as soon as we’re back on the ship. Rapid weight gain can be a symptom of underlying illness,” Chopper frets tearfully as he shakes water out of his coat.
Zoro pats his damp hat reassuringly and rolls his eyes.
“No mystery here. It’s the cook’s fault,” he says, grinning when Sanji sends him a poisonous glare.
Luffy cackles and Usopp continues to look between the two of them with blatant confusion. Zoro sees the moment he spots Sanji hand still grasped in Zoro’s own, and his clever eyes narrow. Zoro sighs, quite certain that particular cat is going to be out of the bag the second they set foot back on the ship. Usopp has his qualities, but he’s a sieve with secrets.
“Sanji, you have to make us some of the food you’ve been feeding Zoro! It must be really good for him to be so fat,” Luffy asks, wide-eyed and eager. “Is there meat?”
Zoro sighs.
“I’m not that fat,” he grumbles.
“Uh,” Usopp starts, but immediately seals his lips shut when Zoro sends the sniper a sharp look. It’s nice to know he’s still intimidating, at least.
“I really need to give them full check-ups before we do anything else, you bastards! They’ve been stranded here for months,” Chopper says even as he leans against Zoro’s leg.
Zoro really missed these idiots.
“If we don’t have anywhere else we need to be, why don’t you have Jinbe dock the Sunny here for the night?” Sanji proposes, eyes sparkling as he looks between all of them. “Zoro and I desperately need a change of clothes and a bath—and no, that’s not optional, mossball. Chopper can look us over, and then we can all have a bonfire on the beach. It will be good to eat up the last of our food stores here so nothing goes to waste.”
Luffy whoops loudly, Usopp grins, and Chopper does a cute little jig, but Zoro can barely look away from Sanji’s bright blue eye. It’s full of happiness and warmth and a hint of mischief, vibrant and completely devoid of anxiety.
“One more feast before we leave,” Sanji says, turning his gaze towards Zoro with a private twinkle in his eyes.
He smirks back, heart fluttering excitedly as Sanji squeezes his hand.
Zoro steps forward with his love in tow, and they finally set off towards home.