pineapplesneedrights

[pineapplesneedrights]

One Piece + Text Posts

2/?

[pineapplesneedrights]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader

Trafalgar Law, usually reserved and distant, has never been one for physical affection. So why does he let you—naturally clingy and warm—get away with it?

Word Count: ~3,300

tags: clingy reader, fluff, shy law

my masterlist here ♡

——

The first time you reached for Law’s arm, it was instinctual.

You were walking back to the Polar Tang after a supply run—rain threatening in the sky, your boots slick on the muddy dock. He was a few paces ahead, as always, when you nearly slipped on a loose board. Reflexively, you reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his long coat.

His body tensed instantly, stopping in place.

“Sorry!” you blurted out, pulling back just as quickly. “Didn’t mean to—just almost slipped—”

He looked at you over his shoulder, unreadable as always, but his eyes lingered. His voice came cool and even. “Be more careful.”

That was all. No annoyed sigh, no irritated lecture. Just a flick of his gaze, then he kept walking.

But after that, he started walking beside you instead of ahead.

——

You were naturally affectionate, and Law had learned this within days of you joining the crew. It wasn’t flirtation, not always—it was just how you were. Warm. Familiar. Physical. The kind of person who bumped shoulders when walking, looped arms without asking, and leaned your head on someone’s shoulder without a second thought.

Tonight, after a long day at port, you dropped onto the seat beside Law in the ship’s library. He was already buried in a medical text, as usual. You nestled close without asking—your shoulder brushing his, your legs stretched beside his chair, your presence as calm as the sea outside.

Law stiffened slightly, his eyes flickering from the page. You didn’t see it, but the tip of his ear turned pink.

“Long day,” you sighed, yawning against his arm.

He didn’t say anything—just hummed faintly. The book lowered a little. Not all the way, just enough for him to glance sidelong at you.

He might not have known it, but the warmth of your presence seemed to calm him. In this quiet space, with only the faint sound of waves against the ship’s hull, he was willing to let you stay.

It was different when other people did the same thing. He’d immediately pull away or give a short, sharp remark.

The crew had learned that the hard way—particularly Shachi, who once tried to drape an arm around Law’s shoulder during a card game.

“Oi, get off me,” Law had snapped, clearly irritated. It wasn’t a playful tone, either. It was the kind of irritation that came from someone who didn’t like to be touched—especially by people who weren’t you.

You’d been watching, and when you saw Law’s discomfort, you’d laughed softly. He glanced over at you, eyes narrowed, as though trying to tell you, “Don’t start anything.” But you only smiled, your heart warm at the thought that, with you, it was different.

Now, when you reached to rest your cheek on his shoulder, he didn’t lean away.

Instead, his fingers twitched slightly against the edge of the book.

You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel it—the way he held still for you, how he never once pushed you off. You weren’t sure if he liked it, but he let you do it.

——

The next day, you were helping Shachi in the storage bay, sorting spare tools and bantering back and forth. He said something stupid—something about using a wrench as a weapon in a bar fight—and you couldn’t stop laughing, slapping his shoulder and leaning against his back.

It was innocent. Harmless. Like how you treated all your close crewmates.

But someone else was watching.

Up on the walkway above, Law’s footsteps paused. He was heading to his quarters with a logbook tucked under one arm—but at the sight of you and Shachi, he stopped.

Just for a second.

Then, calm and deliberate, he called down, “Shachi.”

The crewmate straightened like a soldier. “Y-Yeah, Captain?”

“You’re behind on engine rotation reports. Five hours late.”

Shachi blinked. “Oh, I thought Penguin—”

“I said five hours late.” Law’s tone was even. Flat. Dangerous.

Shachi flinched. “Right! Right! I’ll get on that—sorry, Captain!”

He bolted from the bay, practically forgetting the wrench in his hand.

You turned toward Law, surprised. “Was he really late?”

Law didn’t look at you directly. “No,” he said.

You blinked. “So…?”

He adjusted the book in his hands, still calm. “Just tired of his voice.”

That was a lie. An obvious one.

Your brow lifted, but you didn’t press.

As he turned to walk away, his voice dropped—barely audible:

“Don’t lean on him like that.”

You stared.

But he was already gone.

And later, Shachi would mutter, “I swear I almost got Room’d into the freezer…”

——

Later that evening, the crew was winding down. You sat beside Shachi again, elbow-to-elbow, watching Bepo try to balance spoons on his nose.

Law sat at his usual corner seat—book in hand, drink untouched.

Then came the flash of blue light.

“Room.”

Suddenly, you were gone from the table and seated beside him.

The crew went quiet for a beat, startled. You blinked at your new surroundings.

“…Really?” you muttered, turning to Law. “You Room’d me?”

“You were in my seat,” he said blandly, not looking at you.

“This isn’t your seat.”

“It is now.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious.

Across the room, Bepo coughed pointedly. Penguin mouthed, jealous.

Law didn’t look your way, but his fingers tapped against the tabletop—close to yours.

You didn’t move away.

——

A storm rolled in that night—the Polar Tang rocked gently, water pattering against the hull. You found Law still awake in the infirmary, sitting near the window, watching lightning flash over the ocean.

He didn’t react when you entered, just glanced over.

“I thought you hated distractions,” you said softly.

“I tolerate some.”

You stepped closer, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “You can say you missed me. I won’t tell.”

His lips twitched. “I didn’t.”

You sat beside him anyway. For a while, you just listened to the storm.

Then, you reached out—slowly—and took his hand.

He didn’t move.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “You really don’t notice, do you?”

You tilted your head. “Notice what?”

He stared at your joined hands. “That I only let you touch me like this.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You think I’d let anyone else pull this clingy crap?” he muttered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the statement. “…I didn’t think you liked it.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately.

There was a pause. His mouth opened like he was going to say something else—then closed again. He shifted his weight, suddenly restless.

“…But I like you.”

The world seemed to slow.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. For a second, you weren’t even sure you heard him right. Law didn’t say things like that—not plainly, not easily. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze dropped, or the faint flush climbing up his neck.

“Wait—what?” you said softly, heart hammering. “Say that again.”

He stiffened, eyes snapping back to yours, and in that exact moment, you saw the regret flicker across his face. Like he wished he could suck the words back in, stuff them into a drawer and lock them away.

“…Say what?” he asked, but his voice lacked its usual edge.

“That you like me,” you said gently.

He turned his head away, one hand flexing at his side. “…You misheard me.”

A smile curled at the edge of your mouth. “Liar.”

A long, tense silence.

Then finally, he sighed. “You’re persistent.”

“I am,” you agreed, stepping closer.

He didn’t move.

“I’m annoying,” you added, pressing your palm to his chest.

He looked down at your hand. “Definitely.”

“And clingy.”

“The worst.”

You leaned up, whispering against his jaw. “But you still like me.”

He hesitated.

Then, barely audible: “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled.

“Then prove it.”

And this time, he kissed you first.

——

Not much changed after the confession—at least not in public.

You still clung to Law whenever you felt like it. When no one was looking, he’d reach for your hand first. He’d Room you to his side without a word. Let you nap on his chest, fingers tracing his tattoos like they were secret maps made just for you.

And one day, when you leaned teasingly on Shachi during a crew card game, Law didn’t interrupt.

He just walked over, placed a quiet hand on your shoulder, and spoke without looking at anyone.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone else.”

You turned, startled by the sudden words.

Law met your eyes. Calm. Certain.

“Only exception,” he murmured, so soft only you could hear.

You stared at him, heart skipping. Then you smiled—slow, warm, full of affection—and leaned into his side where he let you stay, unbothered and unwavering.

Captain Trafalgar Law might not have liked touch.

But with you?

He made room.

[pineapplesneedrights]

You're damn right

Yes

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Too real

[pineapplesneedrights]

Holding my monster boyfriend’s hand.

[pineapplesneedrights]

Real

No, I can't get over it.

I'm still losing gems to pass the pass. I'm going to be left with nothing for a frame.

[pineapplesneedrights]

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS GO GOOD OMFG

. . . ✰ KISS ME → MAMMON/READER ༝ fluff

༝ PRONOUNS: None! ༝ CW: Reader is drunk, A wee bit of pet play, hints of unrequited feelings (reader towards Mammon)

Mammon vividly remembers that Solomon was a good drinker.

He held his alcohol well, never even allowing a flush to appear on his cheeks no matter how many drinks he downed. He’d always found it amusing, watching as multiple other devils would give up long before Solomon was even satisfied, loud laughter always accompanying these moments as Mammon would fondly watch.

You, however—

Currently his hands support you, one placed gently on your waist, fingers splayed in a way that allowed them to gently brush the curve of your rear. The other grips onto your arm gently. He had been holding your hand, but it was so small that you were easily able to slip away from him and, well, apparently while you were inebriated, everything was interesting. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to indulge in your whims, he’s more than happy to enable you to do things that bring that smile to your face he so loves, it’s just he gets anxious when you’re not in his sight, when you vanish into crowds or out of his eye line and he really, really doesn’t like that. It’s something he’s begun to be more aware of recently, how being apart from you feels like a life time passing — something he’s never felt, for time is nothing to a devil, especially one like him. It’s as if the simple thought of anything happening to you is enough to make him feel as if he’s been stripped of all his riches and turned into a pauper. He’s not used to this feeling, and he’s not entirely sure how to deal with it, and so he’s found that he’s allowing himself to be more possessive and selfish with you. From what he’s seen you don’t seem to mind, though, right now-

Mammon lets out a deep laugh when your eyes light up as you spy a small cat escaping down the backstreets of Gehenna. “I want to pet it!”

“I think it is long gone, but if it is a cat you desire, I will give you a room full of them.”

“Buuuuut….”

Mammon chews his lip, debating chasing after the creature. It’s what you want, after all, and he lives to please you and grant your each desire.

“Satan is a kitty,” you murmur to yourself.

This time, Mammon gulps, his grip on your arm tightening just enough that you lift your eyes to look up at him. “Would petting Satan make you happy?” he asks, his voice low and deep, trying desperately to hide how he wants to plead with you not to say yes. He’s promised you he’d do anything, he’s given himself to you, you’re his master — and truly, if another man would make you happy he would do anything he could to make it happen, but he’s no longer sure if he’d be able to stomach the idea of you giving that smile he so loves to anyone else.

You would be happy… but he would be miserable.

Mammon swallows it down, his golden gaze boring into yours intently.

“No,” you answer at length. “No… I only want to pet my Mammon.”

A slight exhale of a gasp escapes his throat, his body shuddering in pleasure at the possessive tone to your words. He wonders if one day you’ll love him as much as he loves you; he hopes for it dearly, that one day you’ll look at him the way he looks at you and everything will fall perfectly into place just as it should.

Slowly, Mammon bends down until he’s kneeling in front of you, head bowed in a way that exposes the crown of his head though he’s still towering over you. Your lips part, eyes still slightly hazy from the alcohol, enough for you to wonder what you’re seeing, and enough for you to make you think the next thing you hear is your imagination.

“M-meow.”

“What?”

“Meow…”

Mammon looks up at you slightly, his eyes peering at you while his cheeks are ignited a brilliant scarlet that reaches even the top of his ears. The adorable sound rumbles deep in his chest, a strange juxtaposition that seems only to make you enjoy it more. “You wanted to pet a kitty.” Mammon keeps his voice low, he’s not ashamed, not at all — for you he’d truly do anything, degrade himself in any way you wished, but something about this makes him almost — what’s the word? — oh, shy. It’s a new feeling, and despite being almost excited about the new experience that he’d only been able to feel due to you, the shyness takes over more than anything.

Gulping down, you hesitantly lift your hand to settle onto the top of his head, careful not to touch his horn knowing how sensitive they are. You curl your fingers into his hair, smiling at how soft it is, before you allow your movements to become slightly more as though you are petting an animal. Mammon shudders at the touch, a slight sound of satisfaction escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. It feels surprisingly nice having you pet his head like this, comforting—

He opens his eyes when he feels your hand trail down the side of his face. Unable to stop himself, Mammon catches your hand and presses it against his cheek, enjoying your warmth before he pulls away enough to bring your palm to his lips. He places a kiss there, revelling in amazement at just how small you are compared to him. His gaze meets yours and he smiles at the way your cheeks burn like his, how your eyes are narrowed, intent on his lips.

“Is there something else you desire, master?” Mammon asks, his voice low and suggestive. Tempting. He wants you to want him, to desire and covet him, to greedily keep him all to yourself. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything.

“I-” you inhale, chewing on your lip before you give him a slight nod. “I’d… like if you kissed me.”

Mammon presses his lips back against your palm, eyes never leaving yours. “Like this?”

“No… on my lips.”

“Oh?” he gives you a smile that leaves you almost breathless, the corners of his lips almost turned into a smirk. It’s a beautiful sight, and as you gasp in surprise, he tugs your wrist enough to pull you against him; and when he has you in his arms, his lips find yours in a kiss so heartbreakingly tender and soft that you find yourself gripping onto his shirt, pressing yourself against him for more. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, barely leaving your lips. “How you want me to kiss you.”

“Kiss me like it’s the end of the world.”

For a moment Mammon stares at you in surprise, before his large hand slides around to the back of your neck. He gazes at you, searching your eyes for the emotion he so wishes he sees there, and he swears for a moment he sees a hint of it, but you’re impatient and before he can confirm it you’ve pressed your lips firm against his. He can’t help himself from holding you closer and kissing you how you’d asked him to. He doesn’t let you go for air until you press against his chest, and even then he only lets you go for a few seconds before he seeks you again; tongue delving into your mouth and exploring all he can. If this was the end of the world, if eternity was at an end, he’d want to to make sure his last moments were consumed with nothing but you and that your thoughts in return were only of him, and hopefully, of how much you love him.

taglist

@nightghoul381 @nani-nani-nani @natimiles @huntingforcrumbs

@aquagirl1978 @aria-chikage @encrytpta @elbertsbabygirl

@weepinglycoris @bubblexly @sh0jun @leia-skywalker-organa

@altairring @ichigostellaglynn @queengiuliettafirstlady

@chandeliermichel @citrusmornings

if you wish to be added to my taglist drop me a message or a comment ♡

[pineapplesneedrights]

*opens tumblr*

*rummages around like I’m in the fridge*

*closes tumblr*

…*opens tumblr*

[pineapplesneedrights]

Goddess - Laufey

We can't befriends- Ariana Grande

Fight or Flight - Conan Gray

1 am freestyle - Joji

Been like this - Doja Cat

(Taaaaaags! No pressure🫶🏽) @diamondeyedgemini @mariarosemary2003 @lizzy-theshyone

Five tracks

Rules: put in 5 tracks you listen to, then tag whoever you feel like tagging to do the same!

HII @pseudobun thank you for the tag!!

Bird Song - Florence + The Machine

creature - half-alive

Romanticise This - James Marriott

labour - Paris Paloma

Way down We Go - KALEO

Tags!! @sweetadonisbutbetter @spongejuice @thejudiciousneurotic @jgabriel1920 (no pressure btw!!)

[pineapplesneedrights]

I feel like a lot of people don’t quite get what a butler is. The role tends to get rounded off to ‘male servant’ pretty regularly in some media, whereas actually butlers are typically not just servants but chief servants. The butler was generally in charge of either all male servants or just all servants, period, in the household of an aristocrat or other very wealthy person. This meant that butlers have often been fairly powerful and influential people, and sometimes even had a manservant or two of their own.

(Also, fun fact: Mary Roberts Rinehart, the early 20th century mystery writer who is widely credited with popularizing the whole ‘the butler did it’ trope was nearly murdered by one of her own servants, a chef whom she had passed over for promotion to butler. He came at her with a pistol, but it jammed, allowing her chauffeur time to wrestle it away and restrain him.)

[pineapplesneedrights]

do you ever have the sudden realization on how lonely you are and its just like

[pineapplesneedrights]

demon lord fight!

[pineapplesneedrights]

[pineapplesneedrights]

LET'S

FUCKING

GOOOOO

DIDN'T THINK HE'D COME HOME BIT HE'S MIIIIINE

[pineapplesneedrights]

Apologies to anyone who follows me specifically for WHB and has been waiting for content from me😭- I've been working on some things for a completely different fandom since I've recently been hyperfixated on that and I'm ngl I procrastinate like a bitch

[pineapplesneedrights]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[pineapplesneedrights]

He's just a little silly, y'all.