Operation: First Time. || Portgas D. Ace x Reader.
Summary: You and Ace finally stop dancing around your feelings and start dating, but there's one problem: neither of you has any idea what you're doing. While you're both suffering from mutual frustration, Ace accidentally outs himself as a virgin and gets ambushed by the commanders with the world's most embarrassing relationship advice session. At the same time, the nurses decide you need a confidence boost and give you your own crash course.
Or: Ace asks the commanders for advice once, and they spend the next day wishing they had minded their own business after hearing exactly how enthusiastically he put their lessons into practice.
Tags: smut (mdni!!), first time sex, you're both virgins, oral sex (both receiving), vaginal sex, lots of fluff in it too cuz they love each other a lot and are awkward beans
Wordcount: 9.9k
A/N: first ace story ladies and gents (but definitely not my last hehe)!! this was so so much fun to write so i hope y'all enjoy this too😭🫶 also guys i started writing my book and like,,, fanfics are so much easier, send help lmao also i had to use an ai tool to get the formatting right, really sorry just wanna say that early on but my google docs fucked up the formating the entire time, i spent HOURS on it and i didnt do anything different so im very confused, but yeah figured id just say it, no writing or editing was actually done with it!! really just the formatting!! as always, pls like, reblog and comment! divider credits go to @cursed-carmine <33
The Moby Dick was more than a ship: for you, it was the only home you had ever truly known. As one of the few women on the crew and the youngest member by a significant margin, except Ace that is, you had been adopted into the fold with a ferocity that was both heartwarming and slightly suffocating.
From the moment you stepped on deck, you became the collective little sister of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Pops doted on you with a booming laugh and a gentle hand on your head. Marco looked after you with a sleepy, protective eye. Thatch constantly tried to feed you delicacies from the galley, and Izou spent hours ensuring your wardrobe was as sharp and stylish as his own. You were the heart of the ship, the precious gem they all swore to protect.
But there was one person who looked at you differently.
Portgas D. Ace.
For months, the two of you had been locked in a dance of agonizing tension. It was a clumsy, electric lingo of lingering glances, accidental brushes of shoulders, and conversations that trailed off into heavy silences. Everyone saw it. The entire crew saw it. Whitebeard would often chuckle into his massive sake cup, watching the two of you stumble through a simple conversation, while Marco would sigh, wondering when the idiot Second Commander would finally grow a pair and make a move.
Then, finally, it happened. A moonlit night on the upper deck, a shared bottle of something strong, and a confession that had been bubbling over for half a year.
You were finally, officially together.
However, “together” was currently a very relative term. While the emotional bond was searingly hot, the physical side of things was… Well, at a complete standstill.
You were both shy in your own ways, and Ace, despite his reputation as a bold, fire-wielding powerhouse, was surprisingly hesitant. He treated you like you were made of the finest porcelain, terrified that if he pushed too hard or too fast, he might break the spell.
Of course, this hesitation didn’t stop his imagination.
Ace was twenty years old, brimming with testosterone and hopelessly in love. Every single night, while you slept soundly in your quarters, Ace was in his own bunk, tossing and turning. He spent hours just staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the way your laugh sounded or the way your skin felt when you held his hand. He spent a great deal of time with his hand wrapped firmly around his dick, groaning your name into his pillow, struggling through the solitary release because the reality of you was so much more intoxicating than any fantasy. He was a virgin, a fact he guarded with a fierce, embarrassed pride, but his libido was currently at a breaking point. He wanted you - deeply, desperately - but he had absolutely no idea what he was actually doing.
The afternoon sun was beating down on the Moby Dick, leaving the crew drenched in sweat and grime. As per tradition, the men headed to the massive communal baths to scrub off the dirt from the day and relax. The bathhouse was filled with the boisterous shouting of dozens of pirates splashing around in the hot springs.
Ace sat submerged up to his chest in the steaming water, his eyes closed, leaning his head back against the smooth stone. Even here, in the company of his brothers, his mind was drifting. He was thinking about the way your dress had hugged your curves this morning, and the way you had winked at him before heading to help the nurses. He felt a familiar, insistent throb in his groin, and he cursed silently, sinking deeper into the water to hide the evidence of his distraction.
Nearby, Thatch, Marco, Vista, Jozu and Haruta were lounging in a larger pool, the conversation flowing as freely as the sake they had bought along. As was common in the baths, the talk had eventually shifted toward the… romantic exploits of the crew.
“I’m telling you,” Thatch bragged, gesturing wildly with a soapy hand, “the girl in the last port had a passion for the culinary arts that matched my own. The way she looked at me while I was describing the perfect reduction sauce… it was practically foreplay. By the time we got to the room, we didn’t even make it to the bed.”
Vista chuckled, twirling a lock of his mustache. “Ah, Thatch, you always lead with the stomach. For me, it is all about the grace of it. The anticipation is where the true pleasure lies.”
Marco let out a lazy hum, his eyes half-closed. “You’re both too loud, yoi. The best way is just to be attentive. Listen to what she wants, follow the lead, and you’ll do just fine. No need to make it complicated.”
Ace listened to them, his brow furrowed. He felt a surge of inadequacy. He loved you more than life itself, and he wanted to make you feel everything they were talking about, but as he listened to their elaborate terminology he realized there was a massive gap in his knowledge. He knew the basics, of course, but the actual mechanics of pleasing a woman were a mystery to him.
He looked at his brothers - men who were older and seemed so confident, so experienced. He trusted them. And more importantly, he was currently suffering from a level of horniness that made his brain malfunction. And so he did something he would 100% come to regret later on.
“Hey,” Ace blurted out, his voice cutting through the laughter.
The group fell silent, looking over at him. Ace rubbed the back of his neck, his face already beginning to tint pink. “I… uh… how do you actually please a woman?”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Thatch froze mid-gesture. Marco actually opened one eye. Even Vista’s mustache stopped twitching. They all stared at Ace, the realization hitting them like a cannonball to the chest.
“... Wait,” Thatch whispered, his eyes widening. “Ace… are you telling me you’ve never…?”
“Never what?!” Ace snapped, his temper flaring as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
“You’re a virgin!” Haruta shrieked, splashing water everywhere in his excitement. “Our 2nd commander is a total novice! A blank slate! A babe in the woods!”
“Shut up!” Ace yelled, his skin starting to smoke as his Devil Fruit reacted to his embarrassment. “I just… I want to do it right! Y/N is… she’s special! I don’t want to mess it up!”
The tone of the room shifted instantly. The mockery vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense sense of brotherhood. These were his brothers, and the mission had now become clear: Ace needed a crash course in the art of intimacy. Mainly so that he wouldn’t hurt you, their only little sister.
“My god,” Marco sighed, though there was a smirk on his face. “We’ve been letting you wander around like a lost puppy. Sit down, Ace. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but we’re having a meeting.”
The commanders closed in around him, forming a tight, steaming circle. Ace looked like he wanted to melt into the floor, but he stayed, his curiosity and desperation ultimately outweighing his shame.
“Alright, listen up, kid,” Thatch began, his voice taking on the tone of a master chief explaining a complex recipe. “First rule: the main event is not the goal. The goal is the journey. If you just dive straight in, you’re like a guy who serves the dessert before the appetizer. It’s a crime! Scandalous even! You have to start with the build-up. Kissing, obviously, but don’t just stay on the lips. The neck is a goldmine, Ace. The collarbone. The soft spot behind the ear. You tease and you make her ache for it.”
Ace swallowed hard, his imagination immediately firing off images of you arching your back as he kissed your neck. He let out a small, strangled noise.
“Exactly,” Vista added, nodding approvingly. “The psychological element is key. Tell her how beautiful she is. Tell her exactly what you want to do to her before you actually do it. The anticipation builds the tension, and when the tension finally snaps, the pleasure is ten times more intense. You can trust us old folks on that.”
“Now, let’s talk about the… logistics,” Marco said, his voice practical. “The clitoris, Ace. Pay attention. For most women, that’s the center of the universe. If you just focus on the penetration, you’re missing the party. Use your fingers, use your tongue - be gentle at first, then increase the pressure based on how she reacts. If she starts breathing heavily and gripping the sheets, you’re on the right track, yoi.”
Ace was staring at them with wide, dinner-plate eyes, his face a deep shade of crimson. “The… the tongue?”
“Yes, the tongue!” Thatch exclaimed. “It’s called oral, you idiot! You spend time down there. You treat it like a delicacy. You taste her, you explore, you make her come before you even think about putting your dick in. That’s how you become a legend in the bedroom.”
Jozu, who had been mostly silent, grunted in agreement. “And don’t rush the entry. Slow and steady. Make sure she’s wet - and if she’s not, use your hands and mouth until she is. Forcing it is a one-way ticket to a slap in the face.”
“What about… positions?” Ace asked in a small, hesitant voice.
The brothers shared a look and grinned. This was the part they had been truly waiting for.
“Right! Positions!” Thatch stood up, using his arms to demonstrate. “You’ve got your classic Missionary - good for intimacy, looking into her eyes and kissing her, you get the gist. But if you want something with more… impact… you go for Doggy Style. You get behind her, grip those hips, and really lean into it. It allows for deeper penetration, and let me tell you, the view from back there is a masterpiece.”
“Don’t forget the Cowgirl;” Izou chimed in, having joined the conversation. Ace didn’t even see nor hear him coming, that’s how immersed he was. “Let her be on top. It gives her control over the depth and the speed, and you get to watch everything. There is nothing more erotic than seeing a woman take exactly what she wants from you.”
“And if you’re feeling adventurous,” Vista added with a wink, “try the legs-on-shoulders approach. It changes the angle, hits different spots, and lets you see every single expression on her face.”
Ace felt like his brain was melting. He was visualizing all of this - you on top of him, you arched over the bed, the feeling of your skin against his - and he was becoming painfully, visibly erect. The water around him was practically simmering.
“And for the love of Pops, Ace,” Marco warned, “don’t just go full speed from start to finish. Change the pace. Slow it down, speed it up. Tease her. Pull back just when she thinks you’re about to finish. Drive her crazy.
“I… I think I get it,” Ace gasped, feeling completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. He felt a mixture of terror and an almost uncontrollable urge to sprint out of the bathhouse and find you immediately.
“One more thing,” Thatch said, his expression becoming suddenly serious. “Communication. If she tells you something feels good, do more of that. If she just so much as winces, stop. The best lovers are the ones who listen the best.”
Ace nodded fervently, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like he had just survived a battle with a Yonko, but instead of a scar, he had a mental blueprint for the most intense night of his life. He couldn’t take it anymore; the tension in his body was too much, and the mental images were too vivid.
“I’m out! I’m leaving!” Ace yelled, suddenly standing up and splashing water everywhere. He didn’t even bother with a towel, grabbing his clothes in a blur of motion and sprinting toward the exit, his face glowing red like a flare.
As he scrambled through the doorway, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the suffocating atmosphere of “brotherly advice”, a loud, booming voice echoed through the bathhouse.
“And Ace!” Thatch screamed after him, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You and Y/N don’t forget to use protection, okay?!”
The sound of Ace’s humiliated shriek echoed all the way down the hall as he vanished, leaving the commanders laughing hysterically in the steam.
Remember when you had told Ace you had to go and help the nurses? Yeah, you hadn’t actually been asked to help them. In fact, you’d practically forced your way in, offering your services as an “assistant” with a desperation that had raised a few eyebrows. But you weren’t there to fold bandages or organize tinctures. You were there because you were in a state of an absolute, agonizing crisis.
You were eighteen, hopelessly in love, and currently vibrating with a level of sexual frustration that felt like it might actually cause you to spontaneously combust.
The problem was your boyfriend.
Ace was, by every objective standard, a masterpiece of a man. He was twenty, brimming with a magnetic energy that seemed to pull everyone toward him. And then there were his… well, physical assets. The golden-tan skin, the dusting of freckles across his nose, and the fact that he spent approximately 99% of his waking life shirtless. You had spent months memorizing the ripple of his abdominal, the breadth of his shoulders, and the way his chest heaved when he laughed.
You wanted him. You wanted him with an intensity that terrified you. But you were shy - painfully so - and Ace, despite his reputation, was treating you like you were made of sugar. He kissed you sweetly; he held your hand with a tenderness that made your heart ache; he looked at you with such pure and unadulterated devotion that you felt like the center of his universe.
But he didn’t move.
As frustrated as you were, you had even gone so far as to sneak into a boutique at the last port, spending a small fortune on a set of lingerie. It was a deep, sultry crimson that you were certain would make his brain short-circuit, but it currently sat untouched in your chest, because every time you thought about putting it on, your face heated up and you imagined him looking at you with those wide, innocent eyes and you simply lost your nerve.
“Alright, sweetheart, enough with the daydreaming. If you’re going to “help” us, you might as well be honest about why you’re really here,” a voice called out.
You jumped, nearly knocking over a tray of saline solution or whatever they had called it. Nurse Hana, a woman in her thirties with a sharp gaze and a knowing smirk, was leaning against a cabinet, arms crossed. Beside her, Nurse Mimi, who was younger and significantly more mischievous, was giggling behind her hand.
You felt the heat crawl up your neck. “I… I just thought…”
“You’re thinking about our dear second commander,” Mimi chirped, stepping closer. “We got you figured out, sweetie. We’ve seen the way you look at him. And we’ve seen the way he looks at you. “It’s like watching two magnets that are too scared to actually click together. It’s exhausting for the rest of us, really.”
You slumped against the table, defeated. “Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, the entire crew is betting on when you two will finally stop just flirting and actually get laid,” Hana said bluntly.
You gasped, your face turning a shade of red that rivaled the lingerie you were currently wearing.
“I- we- it’s not like that!”
“Oh, please,” Mimi laughed, pulling you towards a cluster of chairs in the back of the ward where they were taking their break. “Sit. Tell us everything. What’s the hold-up? Is he not interested? Is he… lacking in the equipment department?”
“No!” You whispered urgently. “He’s perfect! He’s more than perfect! He’s just… he’s so gentle. I don’t know how to make him realize that I want him to stop being gentle. I don’t know how to start it without it being weird!”
The two nurses exchanged a look. A predatory one.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Hana sighed, though her eyes were twinkling. “You’re trying to wait for the man to lead, but Ace is a dork. A hot, muscular, oblivious dork. Men like that often need a very clear map to their destination. They’re terrified of overstepping, especially when they’re as smitten as he is.”
“So… what do I do?” you asked, your voice small.
Mimi leaned in, her expression becoming intensely focused. She clearly enjoyed this. “First of all, we need to talk about the visual. Do you have anything… provocative? Something that says ‘I am not a doll, I am a woman who wants you to take her’?”
You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I have… some lace. Red.”
“Are you wearing it right now?”
“... Maybe.”
Mimi let out a triumphant shriek. “Perfect! Absolute gold! Listen to me: you tease him with it. You let him see a strap. You let him catch a glimpse of a thigh. Until he finally crumbles.”
For the next hour, the infirmary became a classroom of a very different sort than the one Ace was currently attending in the baths. While the commanders were giving Ace a technical manual on the mechanics of pleasure, the nurses were giving you a masterclass in the art of seduction.
And they were explicit.
“Don’t just wait for him to kiss you,” Hana instructed, gesturing with her hands. “Take the lead. Grab him by the back of the neck - he loves that, trust me, men with those shoulders have a weakness for being pulled in. Bite his lower lip. Just a little bit. It signals that you’re demanding his affection, not just accepting it.”
You felt dizzy just listening to her. “B-bite him?”
“Yes, bite him!” Mimi added enthusiastically. “And once you get him in the bedroom, don’t just lie there. Use your body. Rub yourself against him. Let him feel how much you want him through your clothes first. The friction is what drives him crazy, trust me. And for the love of God, use your hands. Explore him. He’s shirtless all day, right? Use that. Trace the lines of his muscles, linger on his chest, move down… slowly… until he’s practically begging you.”
“But what if I don’t know what to do… down there?” you whispered, your heart hammering.
Hana leaned back, her expression softening but remaining frank. “Listen, the first time is always a bit of a mess. He’s probably just as nervous as you are. The secret isn’t perfection, so don’t overthink what you should do for now; it’s enthusiasm. If you’re making noise, if you’re arching your back, if you’re telling him exactly how good he feels, he’ll feed off that. Guide him. If he goes somewhere you don’t like, move his hand. If he hits a spot that makes your toes curl, moan. Loudly. Men are simple creatures, they just want to know they’re winning.”
Mimi winked at you. “And remember: the more you treat it like a delicious secret you’re sharing, the more he’ll lose his mind. Seduction isn’t about the build-up. Make him ache for it. Make him feel like he’s starving and you’re the only feast in the world able to satisfy him.”
By the time you left the infirmary, your head was spinning. You felt like you had been given a secret weapon, but the weight of actually using it felt monumental. You walked back toward your quarters, your legs feeling a bit like jelly, the nurses’ voices echoing in your mind: Bite his lip. Use your hands. Make him ache.
As you reached your door, you saw a flash of orange and black.
Ace was standing there, leaning against the railing, looking like he had just stepped out of a storm. His hair was still damp, clinging to his forehead, and he was wearing his usual trousers, his chest bare and glistening slightly in the fading light.
He looked… different. He looked wired.
There was a strange, frantic energy in his eyes, a mixture of sheer terror and an almost violent level of horniness, that you had never seen in him before.
“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, his face flushing a deep crimson. “Hey, Y/N.”
You stopped, your breath catching. You looked at his broad shoulders, the way the muscles of his chest flexed as he breathed, and suddenly, all you could think was: He’s a feast.
“Hi, Ace,” you replied, your voice sounding breathier than you intended.
He shifted his weight, looking everywhere but at you. “I… uh… the baths were… really educational. I mean! Not that I learned anything! I just… the guys were talking. About… stuff.”
You blinked. Educational? A sudden, suspicious thought crossed your mind. Had Ace been talking to the other commanders? Had he received his own version of the “crash course”?
The realization of that possibility sent a jolt of electricity through you. If he was just as desperate and “educated” as you were, then the tension between you was now stretched to the breaking point.
“Is that so?” you asked, taking a daring step closer.
Ace jumped slightly, his eyes finally snapping to yours. The look in them was searing. He looked like he wanted to devour you and apologize for it at the same time. “Yeah. I mean, I just… I really love you, Y/N. And I want… I want to be good for you. I want to make sure everything is… perfect.”
The “perfect” comment hit you right in the heart, but it also gave you the opening you needed. You remembered Hana’s words: Don’t wait for the man to lead.
You reached out, your hands trembling slightly, and pressed your palm flat against his chest. His skin was scorching - literally. He let out a sharp, strangled gasp, his entire body stiffening at the contact.
“Ace,” you whispered, sliding your hand upward, tracing the line of his pectoral muscle up toward his collarbone. “I don’t want perfect.”
Ace’s pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black. He looked like he had forgotten how to breathe. “You… you don’t?”
“No,” you murmured, stepping into his space until your chest was brushing against his. You could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. “I just want you.”
Ace made a sound - a low, needy whimper that sent heat straight to your core. He instinctively reached out to wrap his arms around you, but he hesitated, his hands hovering an inch from your waist, still terrified of breaking you.
You didn’t let him hesitate. You reached up, grabbed the back of his neck - just like Hana said - and pulled him down.
What followed wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t the tentative, tasting-the-water kind of kiss you were used to. You slammed your lips against his with a hunger that surprised even you, and as you did, you caught his lower lip between your teeth and gave it a sharp, experimental nip.
Ace practically exploded.
A muffled sound escaped his throat, and his arms now fully slammed around you, hosting you off your feet and pinning you against the wooden wall of the corridor with a thud that probably woke up half the ship. He kissed you back with a desperation that was almost violent, his tongue seeking yours with a clumsy, frantic energy.
He was shaking. God, he was actually shaking in your arms.
“Y/N,” he gasped, breaking the kiss for a split second to press his forehead against yours. His breath was hot, his voice a ragged wreck. “I don’t… I’ve never… I don’t know if I’m doing this right!”
You laughed, a small, breathless sound, and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Neither do I, Ace. Just… just keep going.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He carried you into your room, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud bang.
The moment you hit the bed, Ace was a whirlwind of passion and total incompetence. He tried to be the suave, confident lover the commanders had described, but his nerves were shot. He went to pull your shirt over your head, but he got caught on your arm, nearly pulling you off the bed in the process.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” he yelped, his face turning bright red. “I just- I wanted to be smooth! Thatch said the build-up is everything, and I’m like really trying to build it, but I’m just-”
You giggled, pulling him back down by his collar. “Ace, stop listening to Thatch. Just look at me.”
He stopped, his gaze falling on you. The heat in his eyes returned, that raw, hungry intensity that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, his movements becoming more confident as he stopped listening to his spiraling thoughts and started following the instincts of a man who had been starving for months.
Then, he felt it. The lace.
As he shifted his weight, his hand brushed against the edge of the crimson lingerie you were wearing beneath your clothes. He froze, his hands pausing on your hip. “What… is this?” he whispered, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.
“A surprise,” you whispered back, reaching down to slowly slide the fabric of your shirt where he had previously failed upward, revealing the intricate, daring red lace that hugged your curves.
Ace stared. Actually, he didn’t just stare; he looked like he had seen a vision of the gods. His jaw actually dropped, and for a moment, he looked completely paralyzed.
“You… you’re wearing… that’s… you look…” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I think my brain just melted. Y/N, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”
The sincerity in his voice was so overwhelming that it almost broke the mood, but then he groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure longing, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore,” he whimpered. “I want you so bad it hurts.”
You felt a surge of confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice. You reached down, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his trousers, and you felt him jump, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.
“Is this okay?” you whispered.
“Yes,” he gasped, his eyes wide and blown out. “Yes, please, anything, just… don’t stop.”
The next few minutes were a chaotic mix of tension and absolute clumsiness. Ace tried to implement the “slow and steady” approach Marco had suggested, but every time your skin touched his, he seemed to forget how to function. He tried to kiss your neck while simultaneously trying to remove his trousers, resulting in him accidentally rolling off the side of the bed with a loud thump.
You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach.
Ace popped his head up from the floor, his hair a disaster, his face flushed, looking like a giant, albeit horny golden retriever.
“I’m okay! I’m fine! I just… the angle was off!”
You reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling him back up. “You’re a dork, Ace.”
“Your dork,” he countered, lunging back onto the bed and pinning you beneath him. Now, the laughter faded, replaced by a heavy, seething heat. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the scent of the sea outside, fire, and an unbearable amount of anticipation.
Ace hovered over you, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He looked at you - really looked at you - and the clumsiness vanished, replaced by a tenderness that was almost spiritual. He traced the line of your lip with his thumb, his expression one of pure awe.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so nervous, Y/N. I really want this to be perfect for you.”
“It already is,” you replied, pulling his head down for another kiss.
As he began to explore your body, his hands shaking but his touch becoming more sure, you felt the world outside the room disappear. There was no Moby Dick, no Pops, none of your brothers - just the heat of his skin against yours and the rhythmic thud of two hearts beating in sync.
He moved down, his kisses trailing over your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. He remembered what Marco had mentioned, and you could tell he was thinking hard about it. He paused, his head tilting as he tried to remember exactly where the “center of the universe” was.
You let out a soft, encouraging moan, arching your back and guiding him with your hips. You had gotten rid of your shorts and underwear a long time ago.
“Right. There. Yes,” he whispered to himself, sounding like a student taking a final exam.
When he finally made contact with his tongue, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation was electric, a sudden explosion of pleasure that made your vision blur.
Ace froze, his eyes snapping up to yours, wide with panic. “Did I hurt you?! Did I do it wrong?! Oh god, I’m sorry, I-”
“No!” you gasped, pulling him back down. “No, Ace… it’s perfect. Don’t stop. Please, please, please.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath, a look of intense relief washing over him. He sank back into you with his tongue, his movements becoming more fluid and instinctive. The “education” from his brothers was still there in the back of his mind, but as the heat rose, only the raw, honest desire of two people who loved each other far more than they knew how to handle was left.
The tension eventually reached a fever pitch. Ace was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with a searing intensity that made you feel like you were melting into the sheets. He was a mess of freckles, sweat, and unbridled passion.
“I’m going to…” he started, his voice breaking. “I can’t… Y/N, I can’t hold it…”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so there was no space left between you, your heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
“Then don’t hold it,” you whispered. “Just give it to me.”
The tension had reached a point where it was no longer sustainable. With a ragged groan, Ace shifted, his movement hurried yet cautious, as he finally managed to rid himself of the last of his clothing.
For a moment, you simply froze.
You had spent months imagining him, memorizing every single visible inch of his shirtless torso, but you were entirely unprepared for the sight of him fully exposed. As he settled down between your thighs, the moonlight filtering through the porthole illuminated him, and your breath hitched in your threat.
He was magnificent.
You had never seen a man like this before - not really. You had heard the nurses talk, and you had caught glimpses of the crew in the baths, but this was different. This was Ace. He was thick and heavy, his length impressive and pulsing with a life of its own. He was already leaking, a small, glistening bead of pre-cum crowning the head of his cock, shimmering in the dim light. He looked desperate, his vein-mapped length twitching with every erratic beat of his heart.
You felt a wave of intense, dizzying curiosity wash over you. Your eyes widened, tracing the curve and the sheer size of him. He looked so powerful, yet as he looked down at you, his expression was one of complete, vulnerable surrender. He was trembling, his chest heaving, looking as though he might actually combust if you didn’t touch him soon.
“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, sounding completely wrecked. “I…I’m sorry if it’s… too much. I don’t know if I’m… normal.”
The slight insecurity in his voice, despite the imposing sight of him, made your heart swell. You reached out, your fingers hovering just an inch from his skin.
You could feel the heat off him, a literal warmth that made your fingertips tingle.
“Can I…?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Can I touch you, Ace?”
He let out a half-sob, half-groan, his eyes closing tight. “Yes,” he choked out, “God, yes. Please.”
As your fingers finally made contact, Ace let out a sharp, strangled gasp. His skin was scorching, smoother than you expected, and incredibly sensitive. You started slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of him. You were surprised by how your hand couldn’t even fully close around the girth of him; he filled your palm and then some.
You felt him jump under your touch, a violent shiver racking his entire frame. You began to move your hand, a tentative, sliding motion upward to the crown. The feeling of the slick moisture between your skin and his made a small, needy sound escape your lips.
“Oh god,” Ace whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. “Y/N… you’re… you’re actually doing it. You’re touching me. This… holy shit.”
You gained confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice about enthusiasm. You tightened your grip slightly and increased the pace, sliding your hand up and down the length of him. The friction was intoxicating. You watched him, captivated by the way his abdominal muscles rippled and clenched with every stroke.
Ace began to make sounds you had never heard of him - high-pitched moans and frequent whines that vibrated through the mattress. He gripped the sheets beside your head, his knuckles white, his hips beginning to stutter-step upward, instinctively seeking more pressure.
“Right there… just like that,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop… don’t ever stop.”
You shifted your body, rubbing your thigh against his hip, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. You started to move faster, your palm slick with his arousal, the sound of the wet filling the quiet room. Ace was practically sobbing now, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts. He looked absolutely desperate, his eyes blown wide and glazed with a level of pleasure that seemed to be bordering on pain.
Driven by a sudden, daring impulse, you decided to try something more. You slid down the bed, your hair spilling over his thighs, and looked up at him.
Ace looked down at you, his face a mask of pure shock. “What are you… Y/N?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned forward and opened your mouth, tentatively taking the head of his cock inside.
The sensation was overwhelming for both of you. The taste of him was salty and warm, and the feeling of him filling your mouth was an intimacy that felt almost sacred. You swirled your tongue around the tip, mimicking the movements you’d imagined doing countless times already.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Ace let out a scream - a loud, shocked sound that was cut off as his entire body went rigid. He didn’t even have time to move his hips; the mere sensation of your mouth, the warmth and the wetness, was the final straw for his overstimulated nerves.
He bucked upward, his hands flying to your shoulders to steady himself, and then he exploded.
You felt the hot pulses of his release hitting the back of your throat, a sudden flood of heat that left you breathless. He came with a violence that surprised you, his body shaking with powerful, uncontrollable spasms as he emptied himself into you.
He groaned your name over and over, until he finally collapsed back into the bed, completely spent.
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, heavy breathing.
You slowly pulled away, licking your lips, and looked up at him. Ace was staring at the ceiling, his chest still heaving, his face a shade of red that rivaled his necklace. He looked utterly devastated.
“I… I did it,” he whispered, his voice sounding hollow. “I actually… I lasted about three seconds.”
He covered his face with his hands, a muffled groan of pure embarrassment escaping him. “I’m such an idiot. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be a legend in the bedroom like Thatch said, and I just… I just blew it immediately.”
You felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. You crawled back up his body, pressing your chest against his, and kissed his cheek softly.
“Ace, look at me,” you murmured.
He peeked through his fingers, his eyes wide and sheepish.
“It was perfect,” you whispered, smiling. “You were so… intense. And I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do. Who cares about being a legend? I just want you. You’re allowed to not immediately get everything right during your first time.”
Ace let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest, burying his face in your neck. “You’re too good to me, Y/N.” I don’t deserve you.”
“Hush,” you giggled, rubbing his back.
As you lay there, you felt a familiar, aching throb between your own legs. Ace had found his release, but you were still vibrating, your body humming with a need that hadn’t been satisfied from his earlier try.
You shifted slightly, rubbing your center against his thigh, and let out a small, involuntary moan.
Ace stiffened, his senses returning. He pulled back slightly, looking at your flushed face and the way your eyes were clouded with desire. He looked down at your lower half, then back at you, a look of realization dawning on his face.
“You’re… you’re still…”
“I am,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and needy. “Ace… I’ve never… I’ve never had an orgasm. I don’t know how it feels.”
The embarrassment vanished from Ace’s face, replaced by a fierce intensity. He might have been a novice, but the love he felt for you was a powerful motivator.
“I’m going to give it to you,” he vowed, his voice returning to that low tone that made your toes curl. “I don’t care if I’m a dork. I’m going to make you feel everything and do it right this time.”
He moved with a new kind of purpose. He shifted his body, gently pushing you back onto the pillows and sliding down between your legs. You gasped as he parted your thighs again, his eyes admiring you with a reverence that made you feel like a goddess.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against your inner thigh.
He started with his mouth once again, kissing the soft skin of your legs, moving higher and higher. You trembled, your fingers digging into the sheets as he approached the center of your heat. When his tongue finally made contact with your clitoris, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your hips arching off the bed.
“Is this… is this still right? Like before?” he asked, glancing up at you, his lips glistening.
“Yes!” you gasped. “Oh god, yes, right there!”
Ace didn’t need further instruction. He dove back in, his tongue working with a rhythmic intensity that made you see stars. He was applying the lessons from the baths perfectly after a little but of fooling around. You were a mess already, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
Then, he added his fingers.
He slid two fingers inside you, the friction of his movement complementing the stimulation of his tongue. You felt full, stretched, and utterly consumed by him.
You began to moan loudly, the sound echoing in the small room, your head tossing from side to side.
“That’s it, Y/N… just let go,” Ace murmured against your skin, his voice encouraging. “Tell me what you need.”
“More… please, Ace, more!” you cried out, your voice breaking.
He increased the pressure, his fingers curling upward, hitting a spot that sent a jolt of pure electricity through your entire spine. You felt a tension building deep within you, a coil tightening tighter and tighter until it felt like you were about to snap.
The world blurred. The sounds of the ship faded. There was only the heat of Ace’s mouth and the rhythmic drive of his hand.
Suddenly, the coil snapped.
A wave of intense, crashing pleasure slammed into you, starting at your core and radiating outward to the tips of your fingers. You screamed his name, your body shaking in a violent, prolonged orgasm that felt like a thousand suns exploding behind your eyelids. You gripped his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the wave of pleasure, your breath hitching in a series of sobbing gasps.
As the intensity slowly faded, you collapsed back into the mattress, completely limp and glowing.
Ace pulled back, looking up at you with a triumphant, beaming smile. He looked proud and his eyes were shining with affection.
“Did I… did I do it?” he asked breathlessly.
You couldn’t even speak for a moment.
You just reached down and pulled him up, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with everything you had.
“You did it, Ace,” you whispered against his lips that tasted like your juices. “You did it perfectly.”
He let out a contended sigh, rolling over to pull you into the crook of his arm.
You lay entwined in Ace’s arms, your breath finally beginning to level out, your skin humming with a glow that had nothing to do with the dim moonlight filtering through the porthole. For a few minutes, the world was nothing but the steady, thumping rhythm of Ace’s heart against your ear and the soft, contented sighs he let out into your hair.
But as the initial haze of the orgasm receded, a new kind of tension began to coil in the pit of your stomach. You were satisfied, yes, but there was still a lingering, hollow ache. The “main event” was still looming, a mountain neither of you had ever climbed, and the anticipation was starting to feel like a physical weight.
Ace seemed to be feeling it too. You could tell by the way his grip on you tightened slightly, his fingers tracing mindlessly, shaky patterns across your lower back. He was quiet, but his body was radiating a heat that was bordering on feverish.
“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice still a ragged, low wreck.
“Yeah?” you murmured, tilting your head back to look at him.
He looked completely undone. His freckles seemed to stand out more against his flushed skin, and his eyes were wide, searching your face with a mixture of raw adoration and a mounting, desperate nervousness. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, terrified of the fall but dying to jump.
“I… I want to,” he started, his voice cracking. “I mean, if you’re still up for it. I don’t want to rush you, or… or make you feel like I’m just trying to get to the end. I just… I really want to be inside you.”
The honesty in his voice sent a shiver of heat straight to your core. You didn’t answer with words; instead, you shifted your body, sliding your leg over his hip and pulling him closer, your chest brushing against his. You could feel him stirring against you, the hard, pulsing length of him returning with a vengeance, pressing firmly against your thigh.
“I want you too, Ace,” you breathed.
A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and for a second, it looked like he might just dive in, driven by pure instinct. But then, a flicker of memory crosses his face.
He froze, his eyes widening as he remembered the final piece of advice from Thatch.
“Right! Protection!” he gasped, suddenly scrambling backward.
The sudden movement was so abrupt that he nearly rolled off the bed again. You let out a startled giggle as he frantically began searching through his trousers, which were discarded in a heap on the floor. He dove into the fabric, his movements chaotic and hurried, until he finally produced a small, square foil packet.
He held it up like it was a piece of ancient treasure, staring at it with a look of profound confusion.
“How… how does this actually work again?” he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
You watched, half-amused and half-endeared, as the formidable second commander of the Whitebeard Pirates engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a piece of latex. He tried to open the packet with his teeth, but in his haste, he nearly ripped the condom itself. He let out a small, panicked yelp, his face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled the ripe tomatoes in Thatch’s kitchen.
“Dammit! Thatch made it sound so easy!” he hissed, his fingers fumbling with the edges of the foil. “He just said ‘use protection’, he didn’t give me a manual!”
“Do you want help?” you offered, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter.
“No! No, I got this! I’m a pirate! I can handle a small piece of rubber!” he declared with a burst of misplaced confidence.
He finally managed to get the condom out, but then came the actual application.
Because he was so wired - his heart racing and his hands shaking from the sheer intensity of his arousal - the process was anything but smooth. He struggled to get the positioning right, his fingers slipping, his movements clumsy. At one point, he accidentally pinched himself, letting out a sharp “Ow!” that made you burst into full-blown laughter.
“Stop laughing!” he groaned, though he was grinning despite his obvious frustration. “This is a high-stress operation!”
After several minutes of trial and error, and a fair amount of breathless cursing, he finally managed it. He let out a triumphant huff, looking at himself with a sense of accomplishment as if he had just navigated the Grand Line without a Log Pose.
He crawled back over to you, his eyes darkening as he settled between your thighs. The atmosphere shifted instantly from comedic to searing. The laughter died away, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. Ace hovered over you, his arms shaking as he braced himself on either side of your head.
“Are you… are you okay? Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice dripping with so much love it made a genuine smile break out on your lips. He was perfect.
“I’m sure, Ace. Just… be gentle,” you whispered back.
He nodded, his expression one of absolute focus. He guided himself to your entrance, the tip of him brushing against you. You felt a sharp intake of breath from both of you. The heat radiating off him was immense, and as he began to push forward, the sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced.
“It wasn’t the effortless slide the commanders had implied to him. Instead, it was a slow, pressured stretch. You felt your muscles tighten instinctively, a small gasp of discomfort escaping your lips as you felt the sheer girth of him filling you.
Ace stopped instantly. He froze, his muscles locking up, his eyes wide with terror.
“No,” you gasped, reaching up to cup his face, your fingers digging into his cheeks. “No, don’t stop. It’s just… it’s a lot. It’s just the first time. Just… stay still for a second. Let me get used to it.”
Ace stayed perfectly still, though he looked like he was vibrating. He was holding his breath, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt like it could burn through the sheet. You could feel him pulsing inside you, a heavy, insistent throb that echoed the beat of your own heart.
Slowly, the initial discomfort began to face, replaced by a feeling of incredible fullness.
It was an overwhelming sensation, a physical connection so deep it felt emotional. You shifted your hips slightly, testing the feeling, and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
“Okay,” you whispered, your voice breathy and warm. “I’m okay. You… you can move now, Ace.”
You expected him to dive in right in. Instead, the moment you gave him permission, Ace let put a sound that could only be described as a whimper.
He didn’t move. In fact, he seemed to sink even deeper into the mattress, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, his body shuddering violently.
“Ace?” you asked, confused. “Why aren’t you moving?”
He let out a choked, needy groan, his voice muffled against your skin. “I… I can’t,” he rasped, his breath hot and erratic.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, and you saw that his eyes were completely glazed, his pupils blown wide. He looked absolutely wrecked to say the least.
“Y/N… you feel… holy shit, you feel so good,” he whimpered, a stray tear of sheer overstimulation pricking the corner of his eye. “If I move… if I even move an inch right now… I think I’m literally going to cum again. I can’t… I can’t handle it.”
You blinked, a small, surprised laugh escaping you. “Are you serious? You’re the second commander! You have legendary stamina!”
“Not when I’m inside you!” he wailed softly, his voice cracking. “It’s too much! It’s like… like I’m being hugged from the inside! I’m losing my mind, Y/N! I’m actually losing it!”
The sight of him - this powerful, stubborn pirate, completely defeated by the simple sensation of being inside you - was the most erotic thing you had ever seen. You felt a surge of playful confidence, remembering the nurses’ words about taking the lead.
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, and gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling him deeper.
Ace let out a loud, undignified shriek, his back arching off the bed. “OH GOD! STOP! NO, DON’T STOP! BUT STOP!”
“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, your voice dripping with affection. You began to move your hips in a slow, grinding circle, testing the friction.
Ace made a sound that was once again half-sob, half-moan. He gripped the headboard behind you so hard that the wood groaned under the pressure. “I’m going to die,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back. “I am actually going to die right here on this bed. This is it. Tell Pops I love him.”
“You’re not dying, Ace. You’re just sensitive and dramatic,” you teased, increasing the pace slightly.
As the rhythm established itself, Ace finally found his footing, his movements transitioning from erratic shudders to deep, purposeful thrusts. He wasn’t “smooth” in the way a seasoned lover might be - he was too eager, often pushing too fast or missing the angle - but every single movement was fueled by a level of devotion that was intoxicating.
“Is this… is this okay?” he panted, his voice returning to that low, commanding tone, though it was still punctuated by the occasional whimper. “Am I… am I doing it right?”
“Yes,” you moaned, your head tossing from side to side. “Right there… oh god, Ace, yes!”
Hearing your pleasure seemed to give him a second wind. He stopped worrying about the “manual” and started listening to your body. He remembered Marco’s words about changing the pace, slowing down just as you were reaching a peak, only to drive back in with a sudden intensity that made you scream his name.
The room felt like it was catching fire. The heat radiating from Ace’s skin was literal now, the air shimmering around him as his emotions flared. Every time he hit that specific spot you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your spine, and Ace would let out a ragged, needy sound, as if he were the one receiving the pleasure.
“I love you,” he gasped, his voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your toes curl. “I love you so much, Y/N. I can’t… I can’t believe this is real.”
The emotional weight of his words, combined with the physical intensity of the act, pushed you over the edge. You felt the coil tighten, the tension building into a crescendo that felt like a tidal wave crashing over you. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his tan skin, and let out a loud, prolonged cry as your orgasm slammed into you.
Ace didn’t wait long to follow after you. The moment he felt your internal muscles clench around him in the throes of release, he lost the last shred of his control.
“Y/N!” he moaned, his voice echoing through the entire room.
He delivered one final, deep thrust, pinning you against the mattress with the full weight of his body. Then he stiffened, his muscles locking up in a violent spasm as he emptied himself into the condom. He groaned your name over and over, a long, shuddering release that left him completely spent, his breath coming in jagged, sobbing gasps.
For a long time, neither of you moved. You lay there in a tangle of sweaty limbs and tangled sheets, the only sound the creaking of the Moby Dick as it swayed in the ocean waves.
Eventually, Ace shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked firmly against his chest. He let out a long, contented sigh, his eyes half-closed and dreamy.
“So,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and satisfied. “How was the ‘main event’?”
Ace let out a soft, sheepish chuckle, kissing the top of your head. “I think… I think I might have failed the technical part. I definitely… messed up on the way.”
You giggled, snuggling closer to him. “I don’t know. I think you did just fine for a novice.”
“A novice, huh?” He grinned, a flash of his usual confidence returning. He tightened his grip on you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Well, the thing about novices is that they’re very eager to practice. I think I might need a few more… educational sessions. Just to make sure I’ve mastered the technique.”
You laughed, your heart full. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice dropping back into that low, dangerous register as he began to nuzzle your ear. “I think we should probably start with a review of a few different positions. You know… for science.”
You laughed. “Hm. For science. Of course.”
The sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the horizon, and the Moby Dick was shrouded in a heavy, pre-dawn mist. At roughly 5:00 AM, the ship was usually silent, save for the rhythmic splashing of the waves and the occasional snoring of a crew member.
Except for the commander’s deck.
Edward Newgate, the strongest man in the world, stepped out onto the main deck for his early morning sake, his massive frame cutting through the fog. He stopped mid-strike, his eyes blinking in confusion. There, huddled around a small table on the docks of the upper deck, were his top commanders.
It was a sight that would have terrified any enemy fleet. Marco, Thatch, Vista, Jozu and Izou were all present, but they didn’t look like the formidable leaders of the Whitebeard Pirates. They looked like survivors of a shipwreck.
Marco was slumped over the table, his face pressed against the wood, one eye open and twitching. Thatch was staring blankly into a bottle of sake, drinking straight from the neck with a thousand-yard stare. Vista’s legendary mustache was drooping, and Izou was rubbing his temples with a look of profound spiritual exhaustion. Jozu was simply sitting in silence, staring at a wall as if trying to erase a memory from his soul.
They were surrounded by empty bottles and half-eaten plates of snacks, looking like they hadn’t slept in three days.
“Gurarara!” Whitebeard’s booming laugh echoed across the deck. “What in the world is this? A secret meeting?”
The commanders didn’t even jump. They didn’t have the energy to be startled.
Marco let out a slow, rattling sigh. “Pops… please. Just… stop talking. The vibrations of your voice are too much for my brain right now, yoi.”
Whitebeard paused, leaning down to peer at his sons. “You all look like you’ve been fighting a Yonko for forty-eight hours. What happened?”
Thatch slowly lifted his head. A single tear of regret rolled down his cheek. “Worse, Pops. Much worse.”
“Explain,” Whitebeard commanded, though he sounded amused.
“We gave him a crash course,” Izou whispered, his voice a mixture of horror and betrayal. “We thought we were being helpful. We thought we were guiding him. We thought we were protecting our little sister by ensuring Ace knew what he was doing.”
Whitebeard blinked. “Ace and Y/N? I figured they’d finally gotten around to it.”
At the mention of the couple, the entire group of commanders flinched simultaneously, as if they had been struck by a physical blow.
“You don’t understand, Pops,” Vista groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “The walls on the commander’s floor are thick. They are very thick. But Ace… He really doesn’t do anything halfway. The sheer… volume… the enthusiasm… the screaming…”
“He’s a monster,” Jozu grunted, his voice hollow. “A loud, passionate monster.”
The commander shared a look of collective trauma. They had spent the last several hours trapped in a psychological war, listening to the evidence of Ace implementing every single piece of advice they had given him - and then some.
Because they saw you as their precious baby sister, every moan, every gasp, every loud thud against the wall had felt like a personal attack on their sanity.
Thatch suddenly slammed his bottle onto the table, his expression one of pure agony.
“I regret it!” he wailed, his voice cracking. “I regret teaching him! Why did I tell him about the neck?! Why did I mention the clitoris?! I’ve created a beast and now I have to live with the mental images!”
“I told him to change the pace, yoi,” Marco muttered into the table, sounding defeated. “I didn’t realize he’d take “driving her crazy” as a literal mission objective. I can still hear it. I can still hear her screaming his name. I think I have permanent hearing loss in my left ear.”
Whitebeard stared at them for a long moment, then he let out a laugh so massive it nearly knocked Thatch off his chair.
“Gurarara! It seems the boy is really thorough!”
“It’s not thorough, Pops! It’s an auditory assault!” Izou snapped, though he looked too tired to actually be angry.
Just as a heavy, blessed silence fell over the group, a sound drifted across the deck from the direction of the commander’s quarters.
“ACE! OH MY GOD, ACE-!!!”
The scream was followed by a loud, unmistakable THUMP that vibrated through the floorboards of the ship. The commanders froze. As one, they all slowly turned their heads toward the sound.
Thatch let out a broken whimper and leaned forward, burying his face in the sake bottle. Marco simply closed his eyes and began to pray to a god he didn’t even believe in.
“I’m retiring,” Marco whispered. “I’m leaving the crew. I’m moving to a deserted island where the only sound is the wind, yoi.”
Thinking about being molested... the guy on the train boxing you in on the bar, his breathing getting heavier and his cock nudging your ass the more uncomfortable you get, getting off on you shrinking in on yourself. Your professor reaching across you and deliberately brushing your tits, again and again until they harden enough to see through your shirt, making eye contact and daring you to call him out. Hands roughly grabbing your ass, your tits in the crowd at a concert, strangers making you feel anxious and small and excited way deep down... just, being touched and objectified without ever asking your permission
having a monster bf who likes to face fuck you with his tongue. it’s three times longer and bigger than yours and can stretch to the back of your throat when he kisses you and he loves the feeling of you gagging on it.
summary: your poor husband, Tenya, is hit with an aphrodisiac quirk while patrolling, forcing him to lose all of his careful composure. Now there's only one thing on his mind: claiming you. WC2.3k
an: me, my bestie and the other 10 Tenya fans are screaming rn!!! But I have so much fun writing this handsome rule-follower. I'd let him yell at me abt the rules for hours idc 😋
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
Tenya Iida is a strict man. He adheres to every rule and regulation and conducts himself in a respectable manner. But, the way he's feeling right now is anything but respectable.
He'd been working against a villain, and while he'd managed to subdue him, he was hit with some sort of… pollen? Having been evaluated by medics, its symptoms lined up with a sort of sex pollen. Great. He's advised to wait it out and do whatever he can to ensure his comfort.
Its effects started with a rise in body temperature, and he'd been itching to take off his hero suit, the heat feeling overwhelming.
“What on Earth?” He wonders, frustration bubbling up. Tenya is soon rendered completely flustered, repeatedly adjusting his glasses while trying to wrap up the briefing with a sidekick so he can get out of there. As soon as he's told his report, he's handing the work off to a sidekick. It's unlike him; he's usually so efficient and handles his own arrests. But he's not focused on work anymore.
There's only one thing on his mind now- his darling wife. His mind wanders to her beauty, her supple skin, the sound of her moans when she's whimpering under him. Fuck. He's completely gone.
“Just get home, Tenya.” He reassures himself. He doesn't head back to his agency to finish paperwork like he should. Not tonight. Tonight, he runs home.
You, none the wiser, are relaxing at home. You're simply waiting for your pro hero husband to come back to you, with dinner warm and fresh clothes draped over the bed for him. He was a man of routine, always coming home around the same time, showering if he didn't at the agency, eating dinner, then spending time with you. You expect tonight to be the same.
You have no idea of the depraved, desperate man that's about to run through the front door. As soon as the door flies open, he's yanking off his hero suit. There's sweat dripping from his forehead. His helmet drops to the ground, and he's yanking off every piece of his suit of armor that he can reach. He’s usually methodical, placing each piece away where it belongs.
“Tenya, baby, are you okay?” You start, a little worried by his jerky movements.
“Don't.” He cuts you off. You've never seen him so frustrated, and you come closer to help him with his gear. “It's far too hot.”
“Just hold on a second, we'll get it off.” You say, and he practically growls at the feeling of you helping him remove his suit.
You help him get his outerwear off, and he doesn't waste any time; he can't. Without any more words, he grabs your face, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. It's uncalculated, it's messy, and it's so not Tenya at all.
Once he pulls away, you're flushed, breathing heavily and simply confused. You'd been with him for a long time, and he'd never lost composure like this. Even when you'd brought up the idea of free use, letting him take you whenever he wants- he was such a man of protocol. So, he always asked, always checked in to make sure it was okay. You'd accepted that that's how he is, and though it would be satisfying to be manhandled, you love your husband and wouldn't make him do anything he's not interested in. He was a strict man, always following the ‘rules.’
Tonight was different, the way he grabbed you, showing you were his. It was desperate, and he didn't ask once if it was okay.
“Honey, what's gotten into you?” You ask, surprised, as he pulls away from your mouth. His hands are traveling across your body like touching you is all he's ever wanted.
“Stop questioning me.” He demands, voice low and rough. You're not even sure why you're questioning him, truly, you're just so startled by his sudden roughness. But it's something you've craved from him.
“Go strip and wait on the bed for me.” He instructs, wasting no more time as he begins to peel off his suit.
“The dinner-” You start, but the sharp look from him shuts down any argument. “Yes, sir.” You reply.
You hurry off to the bedroom to follow his orders, and as you wait, you feel your desire growing. You hear the shower turn on, and a few minutes later, you hear the water turn off. Tenya exits the bathroom, completely naked, drying his hair with a towel. He's flushed, and your eyes trail down his body. Water droplets are dripping down his chest, down to his thighs. You can't help but notice that he's impossibly hard, and his cock twitches when he sees you.
“Are you okay, Tenya?” You ask, trying to figure out what's gotten into him. He doesn't answer right away, just runs a hand down his face, before throwing the towel to the side and striding towards you. When he reaches you, he immediately drops to his knees and pulls you towards the edge of the bed.
“Need you. Right now.” He says, before diving his face in between your folds. You gasp, clutching his hair.
You can tell by the jerking of his shoulder that he's stroking himself. He licks around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and making you moan. He doesn't waste any time; he slips a finger inside without so much as a word and begins to curl and pump it perfectly, just how he knows you like it. You're unravelling fast, from the sensations and the surprise of your husband dominating you like this.
“T-tenya!” You cry out, and he groans into your cunt. He doesn't stop, not even for a moment. He adds another finger to the first, pumping steadily and pushing you closer and closer to your climax.
You feel it building, growing more and more intense, and soon you're bucking against his face as you cum.
“Fuck.” He mutters as he pulls away. “You taste so delicious.” He praises, and your cheeks heat up even more. “And you sound like heaven.”
He climbs up onto the bed, dragging you with him until you're straddling his lap. You're no more than a ragdoll to him right now, and he intends to use you.
“You're so….dominant today.” You comment.
“I'm allowed to use you whenever I desire, aren't I?” He asks, raising his brows at you- an offer for you to back out if you're really not okay with it.
“Of course, that's what we agreed-” You're cut off by your own moan as he takes your hips in his hands and slams you down onto his hard cock.
This earns an almost pornographic moan from him, one you've never heard before. You swear it's like a new man has taken over your husband; you'd think he hasn't felt the warmth of your pussy in months.
“Then I'm going to use you.” He growls into your ear. “I know I should be respectful.” He says, punctuating it with a harsh thrust up into you. “But I'm finding it hard to stay composed right now.” He explains, thrusting hard into you, using his strength to force you up and down his cock as he does. “A villain got me with some sex pollen quirk.”
You're half listening, half going completely stupid on his dick. “Ohhh” You reply, and you're not sure if it's a moan or a reaction to his words.
“I love you, Darling. Do you know how amazing this feels?” He asks, eyes rolling back as he chokes back moans. “Being buried in you, throwing away all rules and routine and just taking you?”
You moan in response, and he flips you both so you're on your back and he's pressing your legs up so your knees practically touch your ears. He's deep now, so deep you can't hold back the desperate moans spilling from your lips as his length probes your spongy walls.
“I l-love you, too…” You whine, eyes already rolling back.
“No, don't close them. Look at me.” He says, grabbing the back of your head with a hand tangled in your hair and ensuring your gaze meets his. “You're so perfect. You're going to cum for me again, aren't you? I can feel every muscle tightening, every little twitch.” He teases.
“Yes, ohhh god, please don't stop.” You're begging, as if he had any intention of stopping anyway. He's not stopping until you're a mess.
He just brings his thumb to your clit to rub steady circles, and you cry out.
“Don't stop? Surely you didn't think I'd stop before you're a whimpering mess, did you? Not when I finally gave in and used you like you wanted.” He teases, confidence growing by the second. He thrusts hard, and you cry out, moans mixing with his name on your lips and spilling out. You cum, hard, twitching around him. He doesn't stop. No, it only encourages him to thrust harder, deeper, give you more.
“I like this.” He says, punctuated by deep thrusts into you. You're moaning, trembling and going completely cock drunk. “Using you.” Another thrust, so deep it's like you feel him kissing your cervix. “You know I respect you, right?” He asks, grabbing your chin in his hand and forcing your dazed eyes to his for a moment.
You nod, babbling out a “uh-huh”
“Good. Because I'm going to keep going until you're crying. I can't hold back. I'm going to fuck you like a whore, and I want you to be good and take it.”
The vulgar, dirty words coming from your usually respectful and proper husband send heat through your body.
“I'm yours…” is all you can mutter through your moans and whimpers. You already feel another orgasm building, it's coiling up in your belly, and you have to hold onto Tenya for dear life. He's grounding you, while simultaneously being the one driving you into mindlessness.
“Another one? Let it go, baby. C'mon. Give it to me.” He coaxes, leaning in so his hot breath ghosts over your ear. You find yourself releasing again, closing your eyes and crying out. Your entire body is getting more and more sensitive, and a slick sheen of sweat is coating your skin now. You don't even notice that he'd spurt some of his own cum into you at first, not until you feel it dripping when he flips you over. You're completely sensitive, unsure if he can even wring another orgasm out of you. It's not going to stop him from trying, though.
You're on your stomach now, a pillow under your stomach, as he plows into you from behind. His strong arms are on either side of you, and his body weight keeps you pinned.
“Now look what you've done to me. I came inside you, and I'm still going. Maybe I should get hit with a sex pollen more often.” He says, voice getting more hoarse now. "You feel so good. I can't control myself."
You can't even reply, you can barely even process his words. You're gone, completely lost in the sensations.
“I can't...” You whimper as he thrusts so deep you see stars.
“Too much? I thought you liked being used this way.” His arm hooks around your throat, and he hoists you up, pulling your chest off the bed. “Don't tell me you can't take it.”
He’s enjoying this more than you thought he ever would, and you're so overstimulated you can't even speak anymore. It's all just cries and moans and broken versions of his name.
A few tears are dripping from your eyes from the pleasure, paired with drool pathetically dripping from your mouth. You're trembling, twitching against him, hands clawing at the sheets in desperation. In a few more thrusts, you hear him grunt, and he releases his full load into you. He thrusts hard, as you feel yourself being filled up. He continues thrusting, burying his seed deep in you, before sighing and finally relaxing onto the bed next to you. He doesn't waste time pulling you closer to him as he catches his breath.
Soon, he's steadied his breath, and he finally feels almost normal again. There's no heat coursing through him, there's no desire forcing itself through him. He's just calm, relaxed, still revelling in the bliss of his release.
“I wasn't too hard on you, was I?” He asks, concern etched into his face. “I apologize if I was too rough.”
You smile softly at him and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “No, baby. You were good. That was amazing.” You reassure, cheeks flushed and eyes completely blissed out.
“I did enjoy it. I was unsure at first about this whole idea of free use. It felt…disrespectful.” He says, gently wiping under your eyes and tucking your hair behind your ear, so he can look at you properly. “I worry about taking things too far with you.”
“I don't feel disrespected. I like it when you can let go with me. It's not all rules and protocols, you know, Tenya? Sometimes you can let go. Do something just to make you feel good.”
“I'm starting to see that.” He replies, kissing your head before peeling himself away from you. “Let me run you a bath, and then we'll have some of that dinner you made.”
You smile, sitting up. “Okay..Thank you, my love.”
“No, thank you for being my wife.” He says, giving you one last kiss before heading off.
He takes wonderful care of you, especially tonight. He washes your hair and body, helps you dry off and ensures you finish every last bite of your meal (he's got to ensure you stay as healthy as you can, after all.) He even forces you to drink water like it's his personal mission to hydrate you. You fall asleep that night satisfied, wrapped in his warmth, as his hands roam your body and he peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. It's like he's addicted to just touching you now.
And the next time he uses you like a doll? Well, there's no aphrodisiac needed.
Saying no thank you I don't want to have sex and they say oh ok ok of course no problem but they keep touching you and pretending not to be pressuring you
I know you said no sex it's just kissing
I'm just touching you a little bit it's ok
It's not sex I respect your boundaries I promise I just want to see your bra
Mmm yeah I know you said no but it's just a little grinding
That's right you said you don't want this I know I know - but they're grinding into you and panting and kissing your neck and asking you to say no again --
Doflamingo never understood why you were the only one he couldn't control. Everyone else he'd encountered ended up caving; men, kingdoms, wills… But then there was you, stubborn as you were, who ignited a fire in his chest that he didn't even know if he wanted to extinguish.
His eyes, though hidden behind his glasses, remained alert, like someone observing a flame too close for safety. It pissed him off to need you. It pissed him off even more to desire you.
Not because you were dangerous, but because you were the only one who could ignite something in him that wasn't banal destruction. A different kind of fire. More intimate. More unbearable.
Doflamingo wasn't gentle, and therefore his love was even less so. The love he had for you felt like a suffocating knot in his own throat, a constant battle between admitting the obvious aloud or denying it like a poor wretch.
With you, he learned that to love was to burn alive. And yet, with you, he let his guard down.
He loved you the way one loves something forbidden; with an untamed hunger, a blinding rage, a tenderness he'd never admit to anyone else. His touch was sensitive, his hands gliding over your skin as if he wanted to make sure you were real. His kisses were violent, leaving in their wake his inherent fear that you might disappear from his side.
He knew his life was sea, was blood, and was power. But you were his only refuge, his only flame that burned brightly.
Before leaving the luxury of the castle, he roughly took your chin, forcing you to look at him. No words escaped him, all dying before they reached his tongue. What could he say that you didn't already know?
Just by being near you, he felt how the heat rose up his spine, a fire he couldn't control even with all the strings in the world.
And how he hated it… Doflamingo hated that your absence from his routine in the coming days would only make him crueler. He hated that, for the first time, something had managed to bind him without even using chains.
❝Don't play with me,❞ he whispered against the corner of your lips. ❝If I get burned, it'll be by you. And if I come back… it'll be because of you.❞ He closed the little space between you and he kissed you slowly, as if he wanted to etch you into his skin.
