Clingy out of nowhere pt2 (drabbles)
- ❝you don’t usually initiate touch and intimacy, and you certainly aren’t the clingy type. until today that is. And he’s caught off guard.❞
⤷ Pt 1 જ⁀➴Pt 3 જ⁀➴
˚₊‧꒰ა Tags ໒꒱ ‧₊˚: fluff, sweet like a cupcake, suggestive themes; SFW. Reader is she/her 𓂃۶ৎ wc: 400 per seperate fic (roughly)
₊˚ʚ Characters/status: Vinsmoke Sanji, Smoker, Dracule Mihawk, Portgas D. Ace Red-hair Shanks, (established relationship ˖ ໒꒱)
❝ ᝰ.ᐟ note: this is a request from a reader followed into a part 2! I'm in the worst writers block since the dawn of time & this really helped me to get my brain flowing again; thank you dear reader (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ❞
Vinsmoke Sanji
It was in the evening — he was prepping the ingredients for tomorrow’s breakfast when you trudged inside. He didn’t glance or look, just from the foot steps alone; he knew his pretty girl had come in.
“I’ll be right there beautiful, just need to prep these—”
You take him in a hug from behind. Face pressing into his spine.
His chopping, halts.
Blinking, eyes going wide.
“Er—”
You nudge your face into his back and he flinches, his back arching when you press yourself even deeper.
A shiver running down his shoulders—a pleasant one.
“H-hey, what’s with the sudden attention—?”
“Shhh.” You mumble into his shirt, he smells good. Like cologne, like those fancy cigarettes he so likes and cooking wine. A bit sweet, almost. You want more of it, more of him.
“Just enjoy this moment whilst you still can, Sanji.”
He drops his chopping knife. Prepping forgotten.
He turns, however rigid, and faces you.
You don’t let go of him no, you immediately press your face back into him, into his chest.
Arms wrought around his waist.
Sanji leans back against the counter, one hand going to the small of your back, and the other to take a quick smoke before plucking out his cigar. Jaw going up so not to blow smoke in your face.
Damn. Sorry Luffy but he has to admit it. He could die right here, right now, and be the happiest man alive.
He looks down to you “Why are you spoiling me today? Did you like the parfait that much? I’ll make some more if you want, if it means I'll get more of this.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” you nuzzle into his chest, smiling. “I just missed you. That’s all. Promise.”
And he chuckles at that.
Locking you in an embrace, hands on the small of your back. Trying to breathe as slow as possible as he leans his cheek against your hair.
“Don’t hesitate missing me more often.”
Smoker
(note: opla smoker... i'm not over him, not anytime soon)
Reports regarding the recent incidents at the harbour has been delivered — and that’s what he was over seeing, back leaned against his chair, legs tossed up his office table and on his third cigar of the hour.
And when you peeked inside, you’ll earn yourself a look over his report papers. And earning even an accusing brow when he sees the little mischievous smile on your face.
“Whatever gotten you giddy — better not force me to scold you.” he says as you tiptoe forward, hands behind your back as you come close. And when he returns his glance to his reports once again—that’s when you entrap him in an embrace.
Your nose nestling to his neck. Breath hot on his throat.
He freezes. Blinks twice. Before digging his molars into his cigar and giving you a hard glance.
“Hey, doll, is everything as it should—”
You withdraw. Cupping his stupidly handsome face, before leaning in, kissing him on the cheek. His nose. His temple. His chin and jaw and everywhere else. Lipstick marks all over his face. He’s bashed pink.
“You’re so handsome, I want to eat you.”
“… right—” and before he can continue, you manoeuvre into his lap and bury your face into his neck.
A proud, pleasant, victorious smile appears on your face when you hear him drop the reports, drill down his cigar and widen his knees to make space for your seat.
You resist calling him a good boy.
His larger palm goes to the small of your back, just resting there before taking hold of your jaw, grip firm as he makes you look at him.
“What’s with all the attention today? Are you well?” he says, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb — all business and broody and you snort. Not taking him seriously with all those lipstick marks across his face. “Just shut up and enjoy this moment before it passes.” That’s all you say before you bury into his chest again.
And he leans back, heart beating a little too fast. A little too hard.
And you know what?
Sure.
He’ll take it.
Whatever his pretty girl says.
Dracule Mihawk
He was cooking, chopping up vegetables with such precision and focus you almost think he’s going on a limb, and not a carrot. That’s when you trudge inside the kitchen, and he hears you. Not withdrawing his gaze from the cutting board, not once.
“Dinner won’t be ready before eight, and no, you won’t get a test bite this time.” He says, his knife not stopping — not until he feels your hand on his shoulder blade.
At that; he halts. Not blinking.
You slide your hands up his back, feeling how his toned muscles underneath his ivory shirt flexes beneath your fingers. His heart stutters, just a little before turning to face you.
You have mischief spelled in your eyes, a smile all too playful and giggling.
He tilts his jaw and gives you a brow. “Is everything well?” He says as you catch his hands in yours. Interlacing your fingers.
You come closer, and he presses himself against the counter at your sudden boldness.
“Dear?” You say, leaning in, cheeks all flushed and a corner of his lip jerks. Frowning.
You’re beautiful. And it’s having its effect on him.
His hands reaches out to your face, removing a lock of hair so to see you clearly. “Hm?”
You bring his hands close to your collarbones, still holding them, as you tiptoe, “Kiss me.” You say before closing your eyes and pout your lips.
Dracule Mihawk doesn’t get flustered or bashful, no. Absolutely not. But he does part his lips, eye twitch (just a little) as you keep tiptoeing up. His head short-circuits and when he’s silent for just a second too long, do you open your eyes, scowling and withdrawing.
“Whatever. You lost your moment, buddy.” You wave him off, turning on your heel but just before you get the chance to even take one step further—does he grab you from behind.
Hand on your shoulder and an arm slung across your collarbones.
He pulls you into his chest, feel his warmth radiate into your spine, and he takes a hold on your jaw. Forcing you to meet his lips.
He kisses you, and it’s not tender—but bruising. And when he parts, you’re the one who’s all flustered. A satisfied smirk makes it to his cold mouth, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb.
“Clingy today, aren’t you? What’s with the change of heart.”
You turn to face him, hands going to his shoulder blades as you bring him into an embrace. And he let’s you. Holding you back.
You press your face into his chest.
“Missed you, that’s why.” You nustle against him, “I missed you so much.”
He blinks. Sharp eyes narrowing — and somehow softening. “I see.”
And he brings you closer by the small of your back, placing his chin on top of your hair.
He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind if you missed him a little more often.
Portgas D. Ace
Ace was polishing the beads to his necklace, sitting at the edge of his bed when you stepped inside. He spots you, and an immediate grin comes into face as he puts his necklace back on and flexing it at you. “Babe, look, they’re glistening aren’t they—?”
Your steps are hard, fast—plunging as you throw him into an embrace.
He catches you, leaning back against the bed. Completely motionless and tense as he feels you rubbing your face in his neck. Hands tugging onto his back. And then he twitches when he feels you kissing him there. Pecking him. Nibbling him and he flinches.
“Er, babe, I—uh—” What the hell is going on?
You look up to him, your face sly and he goes pink.
You’re so pretty. Too pretty.
His heart is bulging out of his chest as he grabs hold of your shoulders.
“Did something happen? You’re being quite attentive today.”
You tilt your head, deciding to play with him a bit.
Your hands travel from his back, down to his shoulders and tugging onto his collar. Pulling him forward. Just a little.
“My boyfriend is so handsome.” You say, one palm going to where his heart sits. Its beating, hard and fast. You resist not smirking when glancing back to him, “How could I not miss his touch, hm? Tell me that, Ace.” You tug his collar again, grinning and Ace is malfunctioning.
What the… wow. Okay. You know what. He’s not complaining.
But god, he doesn’t know what to say to your sudden boldness.
He just stares like an idiot.
“Er.”
You scowl, “Here I am, giving you my undivided attention and all you say to me is… ‘er’!?”
“No what—I mean, I should, I—?”
You press your face back into his chest. He’s so warm. He smells so good. You want more of him, so you tug him closer, shushing him. “Shut up and enjoy this moment whilst you still can.” You hum, nestling close to his chest.
And you feel him embracing you back. Pressing his cheek against your hair line.
“Yes. Of course. Anything my pretty girl says.”
And he means it, even when his face is completely red, and his heart thumping out his ribs.
Anything you want—he’ll take it.
And when his most lonesome hours comes yet again, he’ll think of you and this moment again and again.
Red-hair Shanks
Shanks wakes up alone on deck with the worst hang over of his life. Slouched over a table. Damn. How much did he drink last night? He can’t remember jack-shit, anyways — he reaches for the nearest mug, still half-full, and zero knowledge if it belongs to him or not, but he chugs down the drink anyways.
“Phew,” He swipes his chin, that’s better.
He hears the footsteps of a certain beauty inching close and he looks up.
Blanket over your shoulders. He puts on that charismatic, toothy smile of his.
“Hello gorgeous, mind giving me some attention this lovely morning—” And before he gets to finish, you lean in, placing the blanket over his shoulders. Cheek pressed into his red, red hair.
Either he’s dreaming or really freaking drunk right now — but are you… are you actually giving in and offering affection? You?
Wow. He loves this dream.
He slings his arm over your shoulder, hesitating before actually pulling you in.
“Shanks.” You say, voice soft and he tenses. “You need a bath.”
You say that and yet you take in the scent of his hair, press your cheek harder against his head.
“Mmnh… I probably should; wanna join me?” He clutches you closer, and you manoeuvre into his lap. Nestling into his throat. Nudging your nose over the crook of his neck, he’s so warm. And with the morning breeze, it feels so pleasantly good, you can’t get enough of it, enough of him.
You feel him sink into your embrace, the blanket bristling heat between you two and you pull away only so you can grab his face and kiss his cheek. One on the left, then on his right, before making it to his brows.
You lean back, and the man is staring you down, taking in your features as the faintest tint of a blush is made on his ears. Heart beating a little bit too hard.
His hand travels down your spine to the small of your back. His fingers lazy, hand loose, before pulling you closer, spreading his knees so you can have more space.
“Spoiling me today aren’t you? What’s the special occasion and can we make it more often?”
You snort. “Savour it. It’s just for this moment, and this moment only.”
You lean back in, pulling him deeper into your embrace and he softens. Scoffing a little. As he sinks into your warmth.
If this a dream — he really doesn’t want to wake up.
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