Portgas D. яємι

The first problem was that your roommate moved out. The second problem was that rent was due in three weeks. The third problem was him.

Jeong Jaehyun.

At the time, you naively didn't even realise he would become the biggest problem of all.

You found out about your roommate leaving on a Thursday evening.

"I've got news," she announced.

You immediately knew something was up.

"Why do I feel like you’re gonna tell me something bad?"

She laughed nervously.

Because she was doing exactly that.

Apparently, her boyfriend had gotten a new apartment so they'd decided to move in together.

And she would be gone by the end of the month.

You looked at her dumbfounded.

Then you asked the only question that mattered.

"What happens to rent?"

The answer was exactly as awful as you'd expected.

The apartment wasn't cheap.

You could manage your half comfortably.

The full amount?

Not a chance.

So for the next two weeks, your life became one long search for a roommate.

You interviewed everyone.

Students.

Coworkers.

Friends of friends.

Even strangers from rental websites.

And every single one was somehow worse than the previous candidate.

One showed up forty minutes late.

One asked if you'd mind sharing your room because "walls are kind of a social construct."

Like what the actual fuck?

One spent ten minutes explaining cryptocurrency eventho none of the questions you had asked him were about cryptocurrency.

It was safe to say that you were losing hope fast.

Then one afternoon you got a text from a mutual friend.

Hey. Weird question.

Do you still need a roommate?

Maybe...why?

Jaehyun needs somewhere to stay.

You stared at the message almost offended.

Then immediately typed back.

Absolutely not. I'd rather die.

The response came seconds later.

He said you'd say that.

Of course he did.

You'd known each other for years.

Not by choice exactly, but because somehow, he was always present in your life one way or the other. It started with mutual friends then came the mutual events and it blossomed in mutual annoyance. And every encounter somehow ended in an argument.

You couldn't stand him.

He couldn't stand you.

At least that was what you told yourself.

Then your friend sent another message.

He's desperate.

You almost laughed at the text but then looked around your apartment, and remembered your bank account. And quickly came to the realisation that you had no right to laugh at him when you were on the verge of ending on the streets yourself if you didn't find a roommate soon.

A deep sigh left you.

The kind of sigh people made before making life-altering mistakes.

Fine. He can move in next week.

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The first time Jaehyun stepped into the apartment, he looked around like he was inspecting a crime scene.

"This is smaller than I expected."

"You can leave."

He chuckled.

"You haven't changed."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever."

He grinned wider.

Your friend watched the interaction.

"Wow."

"Wow what?" you asked.

"I forgot how much you two hate each other."

"We don't hate each other."

Jaehyun looked at you.

And you looked back.

A beat passed.

"Yeah, no I definitely hate him."

He scoffed.

"Good. I'd hate to be all alone in this."

Your friend buried her face in her hands, already starting to regret her decision to help.

────────────────────────────

Living together started exactly how you'd expected.

Terrible. No, more than just terrible.

The arguments were immediate.

Who used the last coffee pod.

Whose turn it was to take out the trash.

Which television show to watch.

Whether cereal counted as dinner.

It definitely did.

Jaehyun insisted it didn't. There was no "real" nutrition in it, apparently. Eventho, you don't remember asking for his opinion.

The worst part was that he genuinely seemed to enjoy annoying you.

Especially because your reactions entertained him.

One morning, you walked into the kitchen half asleep.

Jaehyun was already there.

Leaning against the counter.

Coffee in hand.

Hair still messy from sleep.

You barely looked at him.

"Morning."

"Morning, sweetheart."

You stopped walking.

Slowly turned around.

"What did you just call me?"

His expression remained perfectly innocent.

"Sweetheart."

"Don't."

"Okay."

You relaxed. For exactly one second.

Then that smile appeared on his face. The one that told you how wrong it was to think he was actually going to stop.

"Morning, princess." He said, exaggerating the n for added effect.

You threw a napkin at him.

He looked delighted.

That should have been your warning.

Because after that it became a daily occurrence.

Sweetheart.

Honey.

Pretty thing.

Sunshine.

Baby.

Every ridiculous nickname imaginable.

Only for you.

Never for anyone else.

Which annoyed you to no end.

"You know," you said one afternoon, "one day somebody's going to punch you."

He looked up from the couch.

"Maybe."

"I hope it hurts."

He smiled.

"You volunteering?"

You hated how attractive his smile was.

You hated how attractive he was.

Actually, no.

You hated that you noticed in the first place. That was the actual dilemma.

Because somewhere along the way things had become complicated.

It started small.

A glance that lasted too long.

A laugh that sounded nicer than it should.

The realisation that you always knew where he was in a room.

The realisation that you looked for him.

And suddenly you were in love with your roommate.

Your infuriating, annoying, way too cocky, enemy of a roommate.

Which was a disaster, to put it lightly. Because Jaehyun clearly thought flirting with you was a game. A way to get under your skin. But nothing more.

Meanwhile, every teasing grin of his nearly killed you inside.

────────────────────────────

Three months later, things became somehow worse.

You had adapted to living together.

Which was dangerous.

Because now Jaehyun was woven into your routines.

You knew what time he woke up.

What coffee he bought.

What shows he secretly watched when nobody was around.

You knew he hummed while cooking.

You knew he left cabinet doors open.

You knew he got grumpy when he was tired.

You knew entirely way too much.

One Friday evening you were met with a mouth watering smell as soon as you opened the front door.

It seemed like Jaehyun was cooking for once.

There was no way, right?

Following the delicious smell, you walked into the kitchen and looked over to the stove.

"What are you making?"

"Dinner."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Then don’t ask if you already know."

He pointed a spoon at you.

"You know, conversations are usually easier when people don't start with stupid questions."

You scoffed.

“That’s a bold way to announce that you're too stupid to handle basic conversation.”

He laughed and just handed you a spoonful to taste.

You immediately froze.

Because he was suddenly very close.

Close enough to see every detail of his face. Close enough to feel the softness of his hoodie brush your skin. Close enough that your heart immediately started behaving like an idiot.

"Well?" he asked.

You quickly tasted it. "It's good... I guess."

His grin appeared. "Damn. Such high praise? I thought you'd spit it out."

"Don't get used to it."

"I think I will."

His lips curved into a smile when he got the last word in, and those irresistibly cute dimples made your heart skip a beat

God.

Oh God.

You were doomed.

────────────────────────────

A week later came the date.

You knew something was up with him all day, so when you walked into the living room, you were already prepared to be annoyed, but the sight in front of you nearly took you out.

Jaehyun was changing the middle of your living room, standing in front of the near full-length mirror. And you could swear you heard your brain shut down like those old Windows computers.

A white shirt was hanging loose from one hand while he stood there completely shirtless. Looking every bit like he walked straight out of your wildest dreams.

Endlessly broad shoulders on display. Those defined biceps, which you wanted to take a bite out of. A toned chest and a set of abs that looked like they belonged in a fitness ad instead of your living room.

You completely froze. And for one terrible second, your eyes lingered.

Then another second.

Then another.

His voice cut through the silence.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped your gaze upward.

He was already looking at you.

Smirking.

The worst part, tho?

He didn't seem embarrassed at all.

In fact, he looked delighted.

Absolutely basking in delight.

Your face heated immediately.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I'm not." His grin widened.

"Your expression is doing all the flattering for me."

You scoffed and tried to walk past him.

Unfortunately, that required getting closer.

Which only made you notice things you definitely didn't want to notice.

The definition in his shoulders.

The way his arms flexed as he casually held the shirt.

The absolutely unfair muscle definition across his stomach. All the way down to his v-line that was dangerously peeking out...

You looked away so fast your neck almost hurt.

A low laugh escaped him.

"There it is again."

"There is what again?"

"That look."

"There is no look."

"Right." He nodded. "And you weren't staring at my abs thirty seconds ago."

You cleared your throat in a desperate attempt to play it nonchalantly.

"I was not staring."

"You absolutely were."

"I was distracted."

"By my abs."

"No!"

"By my shoulders, then?"

You hid your face in your hands, giving yourself away.

His eyes lit up immediately.

"Oh my God, it was the shoulders."

"Shut up."

He laughed.

Actually doubled over laughing at you.

The jerk looked impossibly pleased with himself.

"You know," he said, pulling on the shirt at an agonizingly slow pace, "for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a surprising amount of time looking at me."

You folded your arms.

"Trust me. Nothing about this changes the fact that you're insufferable."

"Mm." He buttoned another button.

"That's not denial."

You glared at him.

He grinned right back.

You let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on the couch, side eying him.

He looked back into the mirror, now finally dressed in that white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up neatly, displaying his delicious forearms, dark pants, his hair styled up instead of being in his eyes like usual. And he'd decided to wear cologne.

The exact same one that turns you into a mess everytime he wears it.

It's enough not to be overwhelming.

Yet just perfectly enough to make you painfully aware of it.

Your stomach twisted.

Because he looked good.

Really good.

Unfairly good.

Jaehyun noticed you staring again. And a slow smirk crept back on his handsome face.

"Take a pic. It'll last longer."

You looked away immediately, ignoring his words.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

His grin widened once again.

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what."

Jaehyun made eye contact through the mirror as he adjusted his cuff,

"I've got a date."

Your stomach dropped completely.

A date. Right. Why wouldn't he...

He was attractive, charismatic when he wanted to be, and infuriatingly good at making people like him, so it was only a given that he had dates lined up for him.

You forced a shrug.

"Poor girl."

His mouth twitched.

"Jealous?"

"In your dreams."

He laughed.

"You wish I was."

That was all you managed.

"Oh?"

Jay tilted his head.

"You sound disappointed."

You scoffed.

"In your dreams."

"Mhm."

You rolled your eyes to convince him, or maybe convince yourself.

"Have fun." You said, even if the words tasted like ashes in your throat.

His gaze lingered on you.

Longer than necessary.

Then his grin returned.

"Try not to miss me too much, princess."

"Get out."

He left, laughing at your frustration all the way out the door.

But this time, the sound didn't give you the usual butterflies. Instead, it felt like a knife slowly being twisted inside of you.

Jaehyun wasn't yours.

He never had been.

He never would be.

So why did the idea of him going on a date make you feel sick?

You hated it.

You hated everything about it.

────────────────────────────

The apartment felt empty afterwards.

Annoyingly empty.

And the evening only seemed to drag on.

You watched half a movie, you couldn't focus. You opened a book, didn't read a word. You checked the clock, then, checked it again ten minutes later.

This was pathetic.

Absolutely pathetic.

You weren't jealous.

Why would you be jealous.

No, that definitely wasn't it.

You were—

Okay.

You were jealous.

A little.

Fine.

A lot.

Some girl was probably sitting across from him right now. Laughing at his stupid genius jokes. Looking at him the way you tried not to.

You tried distracting yourself again, but it didn't help. It's like your brain insisted on imagining things just to torture you.

Was he having fun?

Was she pretty?

Was she making him laugh?

Did she get to see that smile?

The one that made you fall in love with him the first time.

The thought made your heartache worse.

Hours kept passing. And you were becoming increasingly miserable.

By ten o'clock, you were stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, trying to scroll through social media, but every few minutes, your thoughts drifted right back to the same thing.

Him.

Specifically, the moment you'd walked into the living room earlier.

You groaned and dropped your phone onto your chest.

This was pathetic. Actually pathetic.

You pressed a pillow over your face.

You weren't supposed to notice things about him. You certainly weren't supposed to remember them hours later. And yet your brain kept supplying details without your permission.

His broad shoulders.

His strong arms.

His stupid abs that were way too unnecessarily defined.

Even the way he'd looked completely at ease standing there while you forgot how to function.

Heat crept up your neck.

You shifted on the couch.

"Seriously?" you muttered to yourself.

The memory should have faded by now.

Instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

Every time you remembered the look on his face when he'd caught you staring, your stomach tightened.

Not in a bad way, which was exactly the problem. A very, very annoying problem.

Why him? Of all people, why him?

The guy was insufferable.

Arrogant.

Smug.

Impossible.

And somehow that only made remembering his self-satisfied grin worse.

Your pulse kicked up at the thought.

You immediately sat upright.

"No."

Absolutely not.

You were not doing this.

You were not lying on your couch thinking about Jaehyun or his perfect body.

Unfortunately for you, telling yourself not to think about him only made his face appear in your mind again.

His laugh.

His teasing.

His deep voice.

A strange restless energy settled under your skin. So you stand up and walk to the kitchen. Get a glass of water. And sit back down, drinking the cold water in one go.

The coldness lasted approximately thirty seconds before your thoughts wandered right back to him.

"You're actually the worst," you informed the empty room.

But no matter what you did, he didn't leave your mind. So much so, it got you bothered.

And there was no way you could ignore it at this point.

Jaehyun wouldn't be back in a few hours if he got back at all tonight. So technically, you could do whatever you wanted right now.

It felt so wrong.

How could you think about him of all people like this? How could your own body betray you like this? But the ache between your legs only got worse the more you tried to reason.

So before you know it, your hands are gliding down your own body all the way until you reach the waistband of your shorts. You could still stop now. You should stop now, but the need for relief overtakes your senses.

The moment your fingers come in contact with your soaking cunt, you let out a deep moan.

"Mmmgh...fuck,"

Your shorts and panties are pulled aside just enough that you can feel the cold air in the apartment on your skin.

Your thoughts drift to how it would feel like to run your hands over his body as your fingers glide through your already soaked folds and you start circling your clit.

"Ohh...Jaehyun..."

The quickly forming puddle on the couch is the least of your concerns as you keep imagining how good he'd feel inside of you. How he'd fil you up just right. All the way until neither of you'd know where he ends and where you start.

The vivid images make your pussy clench around nothing. So you ease the ache by pushing two fingers gently inside and immediately curling them to hit that spot that makes your toes curl every time.

"Fuckk...hnngh"

You slowly push in and out, your cunt squelching at the pace. And you feel the obscene nosies mixed with your loud moans, bounce off the walls in the empty apartment. Making the whole thing feel even more wrong.

Yet so good.

You imagine how pretty his skin would look with your marks all over him. How his deep voice would sound in your ears when he's overwhelmed with pleasure. How good his body would feel against yours as he fucks you into the couch.

"Jaehyunnn...please,"

Your coated fingers desperately thrust into yourself to the thought of his cock twitching inside of you as you'd feel him get close. Which only makes the coil in your stomach tighten as you pick up the pace.

You're almost there already. The combination of your imagination and your movements are enough to bring you to the edge.

Almost-

"Please what, princess?"

For one horrible moment, you can feel your soul actually leaving your body as you lock up and register his voice at the same time.

No! You heard wrong. He isn't home. He can't be-

Slowly, you lift your head.

And to your absolute horror, Jaehyun is, in fact, standing by the doorway. One shoulder leaning against the frame and wearing that infuriating smirk across his face in pure delight.

Oh no.

No.

No no no.

You quickly pull up your shorts and try to hide yourself with a pillow.

"How- how long have you been standing there?"

His grin only widens.

"Long enough."

You wanted to disappear. Have the earth swallow you immediately and forever.

"I wasn't—"

"You were moaning my name."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

"I-"

"You missed me."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't."

He walked over and leaned down slightly. Close enough that you could smell the cologne again. Close enough that your heart started acting up again.

"Princess," he murmured, clearly enjoying every second of this, "If you wanted me that badly, a little asking would’ve gone a long way."

Before you can react, he’s already on the couch, straddling you and trapping you there, his hands braced on either side of your head.

"Is this what you do when I'm not home?"

He grabs your hand, the same one you just used on yourself, and kisses up your wrist, whilst looking deep into your eyes.

"I- I don't-"

"You're such a bad liar, baby"

Slowly, he kisses up your hand, tongue flicking out to lick the same fingers you just used on yourself.

"Mhmm. How sweet."

You freeze, breath hitching as you stare at him in disbelief.

"That little act of yours—that so-called ‘hate’ you feel for me—isn’t really working, is it princess?”

You unconsciously press your thighs together, and his gaze darkens—something in his expression shifting in a way you’ve never seen before.

"You want me?"

Your breath catches.

"I asked you a question."

"...Yes."

"Yes, what? Use your words."

"Yes, I...I want you."

"But we shouldn't..." You start whispering, not because you didn’t want him. Because wanting him had become the only thing you could think about for months now.

His answer was quieter.

“I know.”

But he didn’t pull back. And you didn’t either.

His thumb brushed against your slightly parted mouth.

"I've wanted to taste these pretty lips for so long now..."

His eyes flicker up to yours, and you see the desperation in them.

"Tell me to stop before I lose my mind."

Unable to deny him—or yourself—any longer, you pull him in by the back of his neck and press your lips to his in a firm, decisive kiss.

The kiss doesn't begin gently.

It starts like something is breaking. Like months of restraint finally giving up at once, like every ignored glance and unfinished sentence collapsing into a single, undeniable moment. His hand rises to your face like he’s been waiting too long to remember he was always allowed to touch you. You, in turn, grab onto his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. His warm tongue glides across your bottom lip, and you instinctively open up as you both can't seem to get enough.

You'd imagined this so many times. To the point a part of you had started to believe the real thing could never live up to it. But the moment his lips met yours, every version you'd ever invented just vanished into thin air.

He slowly makes his way down your jaw, all the way to your neck, leaving behind little kisses like promises on your skin.

He looks up, searching for your eyes, "can I keep going?"

You nod immediately, too breathless to speak a word.

He smiles back at you before slowly settling between your legs.

His hands slide down your body. Over your the swell of your breasts, down your stomach and along your thighs.

"You're so beautiful..."

Jaehyun slowly pushes your thighs apart and gently yet firmly, starts pressing kisses on the inside of your thigh. Every kiss closer to where you wanted him the most. And he doesn't take long either before you feel his tongue licking a fat stripe over your shorts.

You gasp at the sensation.

Jaehyun smirks at your reaction before kissing up your core until he reaches the edge of your shorts. With quick hands, he removes the barrier between himself and what he wants. After making sure with you one last time.

You draw a sharp breath as the cold air hits your pulsing cunt for the second time that night. His fingers gently press into your thighs, keeping them apart.

A deep, unrestrained moan falls from his lips as he sees how worked up you already are.

"What a pretty princess, you are." he praises as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy.

Jaehyun groans at the way you already start clenching around nothing. "You want it that badly, baby?"

That question makes you hide your face and instinctively try to close your legs as heat creeps up your neck. But Jaehyun’s hands shoot up immediately, holding them apart.

“Uh-uh, princess… don’t hide now. You were doing so well for me.”

The protest in your throat dies down the minute Jaehyun's mouth attaches itself onto your cunt. His smooth tongue flat against you, lapping up your dripping juices.

Fuck. He knew how to use it. It definitely wasn't his first time.

He matches every lick to every curve. And every flick to every angle. You squirm against his face, a hand inevitably reaching out to fist into his perfectly styled hair. And a soft whimper escapes your throat as you press him further into you, feeling a moan vibrate through your body whilst his nose brushes against your clit.

"Fuckkkk," you whimpered, gasping for air already as you look down at him.

And almost come on the spot at the sight of him.

His mesmerising, chocolate eyes, lock with yours as he pulls your legs over his shoulders and moves your hips as he dives in deeper. His mouth glistens with your juices, and a smirk locks back in place as he feels you get wetter by the second.

When you tug on his hair, he gives you a split second to breathe before resuming. Picking up his pace even more as continues to drink you, utterly obsessed by the way you taste. Like he'd never get enough. Like he could die happily as long as he could taste your sweetness.

Your breath catches as his tongue moves to your clit, circling and flicking firmly. "Jaehyun," you gasp, eyes closing at the overwhelming feeling.

He pulls back, chuckling at your state, lips swollen from his effort and your essence dripping down his chin.

"Look at you, baby. So lost for words. You’re usually impossible to shut up when you’re pretending you can’t stand me. Is this all it takes, princess? Just my mouth, and you're already a mess for me. You love it, don't you? This is exactly what you wanted isn't it?"

You shoot him a glare, which only seems to amuse him more. His smirk deepens as his teeth graze your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"You fucker," you mutter.

The look in his eyes turns completely wicked as he stays perfectly still, purely to spite you. "Tell me you love it, and I'll make you see stars, baby"

You narrow your eyes and clench your teeth but can't help and give in, "yes, I love it. Jaehyun."

"That's a good girl."

And that's all it took for him. All he needed before he put his tongue back on you and sucked and prodded every bit of your cunt like there is no tomorrow. The burn of his scalp as your fingers kept tugging his hair only adding to his growing bulge.

The way your hips moved against his mouth, the way you kept pulling him in, the way your pussy only seemed to get better by the minute had him going crazy.

"Fuck, yes, Jaehyun!" you cried out, hips rolling up against his tongue, making him hum against your swollen folds.

Jaehyun couldn't stop. Like his fingers had been glued to your thighs whilst the wetness kept leaking from your pussy. You just tasted so fucking good.

Jaehyun whined as his tongue flattened over you, and he started to slurp all the juices before they could escape.

"Jaehyun...Oh God! Jaehyun!" you kept moaning, and the pit of your stomach started to coil up again.

Fuck. You were so close now.

Jaehyun said nothing, continuing his assault on your clit. Alternating between sucking and licking every few seconds, not wanting to miss a crevicle of your pretty pussy.

"Don't hold back, baby. Come for me,"

The moment those words left his mouth and you felt him adding a finger, you came undone. Your hips shaking against his face as your climax hit. Juices running down your thighs and to your ass, which he happily licked off.

The pleasure rushed through your body in pulses, leaving you seeing stars just like he promised you.

He only stops when you push him off and leans back wiping his mouth, looking at your blissed out state in satisfaction.

You’re still on the couch, trying to get your breathing back under control when you tell him,

“This doesn’t change anything.”

Jaehyun lets out a deep chuckle, like you’ve just told him a bad joke.

“You were singing a very different tune a second ago.”

“That was- That was just momentary misjudgment.”

“Oh? Was it now, my princess?” he murmurs, clearly not believing you.

He leans in again, catching your hands and pinning them above your head with infuriating ease. You shut your eyes on instinct, waiting for it—breath caught, heart already giving you away again.

But nothing happens.

Just as he brushes your lips, he pulls back.

You make a small, frustrated sound before you can stop yourself. His smirk turns cunning, like he was exactly waiting for that reaction.

He gets off you, already turning to his room.

“Come find me when you’re done pretending,” he says over his shoulder.

A pause.

Then, his voice drops dangerously lower,

"And I'll gladly make sure you and the neighbours never forget my name again."

Then he leaves with that calm, teasing certainty, like you’ve already been his this whole time, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to realize it—leaving you breathless and completely undone on the couch.

────────────────────────────

You sat, back against the bar in a shitty pub on some island you couldn’t recall the name of. You were adorned with Ace’s hat, the stark orange an anchor for the man to find you—grounding himself—as he partied away with the Whitebeard pirates.

It was also, though he’d rather throw himself overboard than admit it, a way for others to know you were his.

Not everyone seemed to get the memo.

A rather average looking man took the opportunity to approach you. Your eyes were far too busy admiring your darling boyfriend, so you hadn’t even taken a moment to regard him.

The man cleared his throat, breaking your concentration and gathering your attention for a flickering moment.

“Hey there, pretty little thing.” He opened with.

You scoffed, physically rejecting his advance.

Ace still partied away, swept up in celebration, another victory for the Whitebeard pirates.

The unknown man, unable to take the hint, doubled down on his advance. Swiping Ace’s hat off the top of your head, he plopped it down on top of his own. “How’d you like to ride a cowboy?”

You physically recoiled, throat dry as though you’d puke onto his cheaply furnished boots any moment.

And by now, Ace had taken notice of the scene a few feet away from him. While the Whitebeard pirates danced and drank, yelling profanities into the air, he remained motionless in the midst of it all. Eyes only on you and the man that had stolen his hat off your head. The only other place he’d even consider allowing it to rest.

The embers within him ignited with flame.

“I’m taken.” Was your response.

“So am I.” He said it as though it were something to have in common.

You hummed. “Where’s your partner?”

The man, obviously a bit intoxicated, began to chuckle. “She’s at home. Where’s yours?”

You grabbed a few used paper towels off the bar, pinching them between your fingers and using the cover to guide the man’s eyes towards Ace, your lover’s murderous gaze already piercing into the man. Your boyfriend took a drink of his alcohol, not approaching and not saying a word, simply daring the man to attempt anything.

Ace’s hat still fashioned on the top of his head, the man flashed you a quick wink, one meant to be a gesture of reassurance. “Lemme have a word with him.”

Your lips tightened into a line on your face. “Ohhh, I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” Yet you didn’t dare stop him, didn’t move an inch. You simply took hold of your beverage, watching the scene about to unfold in front of you.

He was already walking away and towards Ace.

Upon his approach, the man whose name was still a mystery clasped an arm around Ace’s shoulders, speaking words you couldn’t hear into your boyfriend’s ear.

Then, before you could even blink, Ace broke his half-empty liquor bottle against the man’s cheek.

An all-out fight ensued.

Well, you wouldn’t call it much of a fight. More like Ace beating on the man until Thatch and Marco took notice and peeled him off.

The man’s face was bruised and bloody, though given what he’d dare whisper in Ace’s ear, it wasn’t nearly enough. Ace swiped his hat off the man he’d knocked flat on his ass, barely conscious.

“And for the record,” Ace grumbled, shoving his own hat back onto the top of his head. “I’m their husband, dipshit.”

Ace turned to you, a cheeky smile upon his untouched features.

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.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll-”

“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.

……

Or did he?

What if you had lost feelings for him? What if you were in love with someone else? What if you had decided that he was nothing more than the demon son of the late pirate king? His thoughts had began to spiral as he picked at his food for the rest of dinner. Anxiety had set in and he couldn't bring himself to finish eating, which had earned some confused looks from his table mates.

By the time he left the galley, you were no longer where he'd seen you last. The anxious feeling didn't dissipate as he neared your shared room, which he assumed you were already in. When he found himself in front of the closed door, he let out an exhale and pulled his shoulders back. Surely he was just overthinking and letting his negative thoughts get the best of him. He knew you wouldn't do something like that to him. He hoped.

Without much more thought, he entered the room.

Sure enough, there you were fiddling with something on the dresser. At the sound of the door opening, you spun around to face him with a smile. "There you are! I was beginning to think you fell asleep in your food again."

Ace chuckled as he shut the door behind him. "Now you know that I wouldn't keep a pretty girl waiting for too long. So what was so important?"

A faint blush dusted your cheeks as you rolled your eyes and crossed the room towards him. "It just so happens that I have an experiment that I want to try on you. You up for it, handsome?" You looked up at him with that twinkle in your eyes that he couldn't possibly say no to.

"Depends…what kind of experiment are we talking about? Like science or," You had reached out to grab his hands and he took that opportunity to pull you flush against him. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. "physical~"

You gasped as your faint blush turned into a hot flush as you pushed away from him. "Ace! Get your mind out of the gutter.

When you pulled away enough to see his face, you were met with a wolfish grin. "I can't help it. My minds always in the gutter when you're around."

"Down boy." You pat his chest as he released you. "Anyways, I can't tell you about the experiment. You're just going to have to trust me and do what I tell you to do."

"Sounds easy enough, I trust you. You have me at your complete mercy." Ace winked.

You rolled your eyes again but the faint smirk on your face gave you away. "Alright, first order of business. I need you to close your eyes."

"Consider it done." He did as told and closed both of his eyes.

"Now, I'm gonna move you forward a few steps and I'll also be moving your arms. I'll need you to keep your arms in whatever position I put them in until I say otherwise. Sound okay?"

"Baby, you know I'll do whatever position you want." He teased and was met with a smack to the arm. You didn't verbally respond but he could feel your hands wrap around his wrists.

You guided him until he was in a spot you were satisfied with. Releasing his wrists, your hands trailed up his arms and lifted them both until they were spread apart. "Remember what I said, do not move those arms until I tell you otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am."

Taking a step back, you eyed his stance and it took everything in you not to laugh. Turning your head to the dresser, you faced the hidden cam-snail. What was an experiment without evidence? You shot the snail a thumbs up before turning back towards your boyfriend.

This "experiment" was actually the product of a girl's night. Some trend was going around the nurses where they would see if their partners would melt into a kiss unprompted. It was a cute idea and you were excited to see what Ace would do.

You reached up and put both hands on either side of his face. Instantly, he leaned into your touch as your thumb stroked his cheek. He started to open his mouth, surely some flirtatious remark on the tip of his tongue. Before he could utter a word, you brought his face down to meet yours as you cut him off with a kiss.

It took him a moment to realize that you were kissing him. So it was a physical experiment. To think he was so worried over nothing, you just wanted an excuse to kiss him. Well, who would he be to deny you that? Instructions be damned, you deserved his full attention. Without further thought, his arms fell from their set position and his hands found your hips as he deepened the kiss.

You were not surprised at all. In fact, you would have been shocked if he actually listened to you. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck and you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on your hips tightened for just a second and then he relaxed his grip as one arm moved to wrap around your waist.

It didn't matter how many times the two of you kissed, he always managed to take your breath away and make your heart flutter.

The next few minutes were filled with wandering hands and burning cheeks. Only the need to breathe put a stop to Ace's attempts to devour your lips. When you regretfully pulled away from him, you couldn't help but smile at his attempt to follow your lips. "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere."

"Hmm I know, but I like kissing you." One of his hands lifted to rest on your cheek while bringing you in for another peck. "Your lips are like really addictive y'know. They're just so soft and they fit against mine so nicely." Every other word was met with another peck.

A giggle escaped you as you put a hand over his mouth. "Ace! Give me a second to breathe."

He shook his head as he smirked against your hand. While you were focused on his mouth, you didn't pay attention to the rest of him. Well not until you felt a squeeze to your ass. You let out a gasp and dropped your hand. "Okay, you had a second."

Any retort you had was cut off has he pulled you in for another kiss. And another one. And another. And as your back hit the bed, you faintly remembered that the cam-snail was still on.

Sukuna didn't think much about how his life would change once he was married. He'd be expected to make an heir, but it wasn't like that would affect his life.

Ha.

Hard to make an heir when his wife refused to acknowledge his existence, god forbid sleep in the same bed.

Hard to make an heir when his balls were full and the only seed he spent was on pretty, fluff-for-brains concubines, or eventually, when he could hardly stand to even look at them, his own god damned hand.

Being married to you wasn't only not boring, it was hell.

He had to wonder which of the many heinous acts he'd committed thus far in his lifetime had landed him living punishment in the form of you.

Probably all of them.

But Sukuna wasn't only a sadist, but a masochist just the same.

Sure he glared and sneered and scoffed at your back as you walked out the moment he stepped in a room. Making a snide comment under your breath as you passed him just to set his teeth grinding away.

Sometimes he would bark a, "Know your place, woman." At your disappearing form, catching your shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Like you were fucking laughing.

It made his blood boil and hands itch to do something. To retaliate, to show you your place and put you in it.

You were supposed to be a wife. Subservient and devoted in every way to him and his wants, his needs.

That’s the thing, in every technical way, you were. You ran the household, ate meals with him when expected, attended ceremonies and political gatherings when it was called for. On the outside, you were absolutely perfect.

And in some backwards way, you really were perfect for him.

A match in fire and callousness, you didn't let it rage out of control like he could. You kept it in check and used your seething as an underhanded weapon.

One that really got you what you wanted, because now you had all the freedoms of a wealthy noblewoman, and you had Sukuna reluctantly wrapped around your pretty little finger.

You knew he was not the person to have worked up and left on the edge, but it’s not like you particularly gave a shit. It was amusing to see how his crimson eyes lingered as you passed in the hall, some staff member in tow as you listed off your preferences and plans for a gathering. The way his nostrils flared as he caught your scent. 

No, it slapped him across the face. Invaded his senses and had all four of his fists clenched.

He told himself you were just another woman. His wife, sure, but no different than any other concubine. But the way his hands itched to reach and grab you at the waist, rip your obi off and squeeze the soft curve instead, to pull you in and bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe so deep he’d never get your scent out of his sinuses.

The way he ached to have you sat on his lap taking every inch of him, to fill you until your belly swelled with his babies. Fucked his heir into you.

He’d never had the urge to breed before, and it was really fucking annoying. It made him feel like a fucking animal, and he hated it. 

Sure he sated animalistic needs, eating, fucking, killing. But they didn’t control him. 

Sukuna could level civilizations singlehandedly, raze villages to the ground and upheave the world just to toss it on its head. He was a warlord—no, the fucking warlord, and his pretty little wife had him tearing his own hair out. 

God, he needed to relax. This wasn’t him. He didn’t let emotions run his life, and he certainly didn't let people run his life.

Meanwhile you and your life carried on just the same. Ate dinner and sipped fine tea imported from the mountainous regions to the east, strolled the gardens full of fresh blooms and the low buzzing hum of cicadas, stripped free of your yukata with the help of your attendants and left to soak in the hot spring watching the sun set on the land. 

On your land. 

You supposed being married to the brute wasn't so bad after all. 

Steam rolled off the water, lifted by the light breeze that rustled leaves and set chimes twinkling. 

It was peace. You were exactly where you wanted to be, and certainly enjoyed it, but you couldn't deny you craved something just a little more. Something exciting. 

“B-but sir! Please, wait!” The shrill, panicked voice of an attendant rang out just outside the door into the onsen and you whipped your head around just in time to see it slide open with a bang!

And behold, your husband. 

Taking up nearly the entire doorway with nothing but a towel barely hanging on around his hips. So short the black rings inked on each thigh were visible.

It left you speechless, to see so much of him so bare. That he’d be brazen enough to walk right in on you so indecent. But you dipped quickly, putting your body underwater up to your neck and covering your breasts. 

“What do you think you're doing in here?” You lifted your chin, dignity intact even as you hunched to maintain a shred of modesty.

Sukuna froze in the entrance, ruby eyes wide and stuck on you for a long moment until he finally broke and stepped into the room.

“Bathing. I believe it was you that requested me to, no?” He quirked a brow, bare feet slapping the stone as he walked toward the steps into the water. 

The same attendant hurried in behind him, coming to crouch next to you. “Ma'am, your towel? Would you like to—” 

“Leave us,” Sukuna dismissed her without a look, halted and about to get in. 

You took the towel and muttered that you were fine, that she could go. She bowed low to you both and then that was it. You were alone. 

Well, alone with your husband. 

Who at least had the decency to go against tradition and leave the scrap of towel on and covering where thick black lines dipped low on his abdomen. 

You studied each other for a moment. Your hands cupping your breasts and his crossed over his chest and planted on his hips. 

You broke the stare first, turning to look out at the open scene and he started down the steps. He sank into the water and you watched from your periphery as he eased back, running a damp hand through his dusty pink mess of hair and rested two muscled arms on the stone ledge.

It was the first time you'd ever been alone with him, and you refused to look at him or speak first. 

“I despise how they hover.” Sukuna's gruff voice cut through the silence and you did not look at him as you retorted.

“That is their duty. An attendant would not be properly fulfilling their role if they were not present when needed.” 

Sukuna barked a laugh, “Well, you'd know all about that now, wouldn't you?” 

Your head snapped to the side and you looked him right in the eye with brows furrowed. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” 

“Don't act oblivious now.” He tch'd, casting his gaze out at the view instead of you. “Stupidity does not suit you.” 

You blinked. A few times. And despite the heat of the water, felt warmth race across your cheeks.

Was he really so callous?!

He caught your slight shock and smirked, “I assumed you'd be fleeing about now, is something the matter?” 

“I will not be bullied out of my evening soak.” You huffed.

“Bullied?” Sukuna scoffed, “You've had quite a soft upbringing if this constitutes bullying in your eyes.” He could see your face twist, fire flickering in your eyes as he prodded you and all he could think was finally. 

“You know nothing about me, so do not speak as if you do.” You almost sneered as you hissed it at him. Like he'd truly struck something.

And Sukuna was not one to back down when he struck a nerve.

“I know enough to know you're a sheltered, well mannered brat. If there is more than that, I have not seen it.” He said it like a challenge, like he was daring you to show him there was more.

He had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Sukuna was a brute, blood and dirt still under his dark fingernails from the havoc he likely wreaked just before coming to interrupt your evening.

So fast the water splashed the ledge, you snatched the towel and wrapped it around your body under the surface. It was flimsy and lewd, but better than your hands.

His eyes went wide, gripping the ledge as you rose to your feet. Waist deep in the water, the towel clung to your form and had him swallow visibly. 

“You seem to have certain expectations of me, does it upset you that I have not met them?” Your head cocked, taking a step forward.

Sukuna did not waver on the outside, simply sneered, “I am no stranger to disappointment.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare that threw daggers at him and god, he felt his heart skip a beat as you cut right back with, “Well, neither am I.”

The water rippled around you as you took step after step closer to him. “I never asked to be married off to the likes of you.” 

“That makes two of us.” He shot right back, rising to his feet as you drew close enough to look down at him, making you tilt your head back a bit to keep your eyes on his.

They betrayed you though and flickered to his chest, following the black lines that cut down his abdomen. Water dripping from his bare body, the tiny scrap of a towel heavy on his hips, soaked and clinging to his muscled thighs.

God, why did he have to look like that?

“Brute.”

Surely you'd be the death of him.

“Prude.” His brow lifted like a dare and you stepped right up to the challenge.

“Whore.” 

It surprised even you and as it left your lips you saw the shock hit Sukuna like a slap to the face. 

Too far?

“Why you little—” He snarled, grabbing you at the waist with one hand, nails pressing in enough to make you gasp as he brought his face close and held you in place. “You dare to speak to me like that?” 

“So all those women, you mean to tell me you keep them around for idle chatter? Please.” You scoffed and Sukuna lifted a brow, lips pulling into a slow smirk. 

“What’s this? Is the brat jealous?” 

You? Jealous? Pfft, ridiculous.

He wasn’t about to tell you that it had been weeks since he’d last even tried to be with another woman. That it disgusted him to even think of. That he couldn’t. 

But here you were, right here in his grasp, trembling a little but not pulling away. A crinkle to your nose like he just caught you red handed. And that certainly stirred something in him.

“You… your—” You stammered a little and his smirk split into a grin. Sharp and gleaming. He could feel your heart racing away under his grip. A clear of your throat and you refitted the blades in your gaze. “Clearly, your delusion knows no bounds.”

“You’d think it delusion that a woman would be jealous of another bringing pleasure to her man?” He hummed, grip softening on your waist slightly just to slide down to your hip. Your lips parted and he could see your thighs squeeze under the surface as he stepped closer. 

“Or maybe you like the thought.” He mused, so close you could feel the heat of his body and his breath on your skin as he laughed once, low and gruff. “Maybe you touch yourself at the thought of another woman bouncing on my cocks, screaming my name in ecstasy."

Wait… what?!

You had to have heard that wrong. Sure the brute had four arms but that would just be…

It took a moment to gather your thoughts and hiss a meek little, “Never.”

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He hummed again, dipping underwater to trace the edge of your towel, grazing bare skin and making you swallow. “Or are you too prudish for even that?” 

You could just shove him away and storm off. In fact, why weren’t you doing exactly that?

Heart racing, you could feel your pulse between your legs, squeezed together as your belly tightened. His eyes bored into you like he knew exactly what was happening. How traitorous your body had become. 

Lips parted and wavering, you hesitated to answer.

Sukuna Ryomen could always sense blood in the water, and he knew it was time to strike. 

He moved, his face coming down so close to yours, but still out of reach. Thick fingers dragging over the bare skin of your thigh, he pressed up between your legs and sent a jolt of lightning ripping up your spine. You yelped and gripped his arm with both hands, but he didn't move. Just held pressure and studied how your face twisted and flushed.

“Tell me to stop,” He said, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“S-s—ah! S… S-kuna,” You whimpered his name, clinging to his tattooed forearm. God he could feel you throbbing against his fingers and his cocks—already stiff, twitched. Ready to spear you on both and fill you with him until you sobbed. 

“Yes, brat?” 

You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut. What the hell was happening to you? “I… I can’t—”

“Look at the prude, coming undone and I haven't even done anything. Do you want more?” He rubbed a slow, tiny circle on your clit and your cunt clenched around nothing.

“Mmph—god,” You gasped, using his arm to support yourself. 

“Use your words, brat. Ask me nicely, and I’ll make you see stars.”

The way he spoke to you, shit… you must have been out of your fucking mind. Or so horny you could barely stand. Either way, you pried your eyes open and met his. 

“Please,” You whined, so filled with pressure you could hardly stand it and the word almost had him on his knees. 

“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers at him, that fire burning behind your pretty, glazed eyes. 

“Please,” You couldn’t believe the position you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t believe just how good it felt… “Make me see stars.”

Restraint snapped with a low groan and his hands were on you. It was a blur and you could hardly keep track of how surrounded you felt. One slipping up into your hair, two squeezing down your sides and pulling at the towel—barely hanging on and about to give—

Ah, yep, there it goes. 

Hit the water with a wet plap and you were left fully exposed. 

His finger found your slick entrance and he pushed inside. Barely even half of it but your eyes went wide with how thick it was and you squeaked nonetheless, starting to protest but Sukuna shut you up.

He hefted you up like you were nothing, slotting your thighs around his hips and his own covering let go just the same as yours. 

God how he was dying to use you, feel you squeeze around him like you did his finger. But you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

So he pulled your hair, tilting your head back as he brought his mouth down on yours, lips pressing yours open and delving in with his tongue.

The sound you made into his mouth, tongue tangled with his as you gave in and let your hand thread up into his hair, nails dug into his bicep, it was lewd and perfect and exactly what he craved. 

“You're still a—ah—brute,” You panted between kisses, gasping as he squeezed your ass and spread your cheeks, grinding your bare pussy on his abdomen.

“You're leaking on me,” Sukuna growled, tugging harder at your hair. “Maybe you like that fact.” 

Before you could protest, something wet squished against your pussy. You jerked with a gasp and started to squirm, but Sukuna had you trapped in his grasp and wasn't exactly keen on letting you go. 

“Ah, you asked for this. Stars, remember?” 

“Wha-what is that?” Your voice pitched as he held you against the thing flicking up on your twitching clit.

It felt amazing, electricity shooting through your limbs with every movement, but it was foreign. Big but softer, unlike how his hand had been.

“You like it, don’t you? Like riding on my tongue?” He nipped at your lip like it was obvious. 

His tongue?

Your nose crinkled, “What are you—oh my—mmph!” His tongue thrust into your mouth again as his… uh… other tongue prodded at your hole. 

Sukuna groaned into your mouth, tasting you—all of you. Legs pinned wide open for the wet muscle to work its way inside. Slick hitting the tastebuds making his eyes roll.

God you tasted fucking good. One taste and he was surely addicted, just like he was to your scent.

The feeling of it squirming and exploring deeper, licking up into your gummy walls as sharp teeth grazed your clit, it had you keening and bucking in his arms. The stretch was unreal, and had you struggling to breathe.

“Fuck…” He rasped, pulling back to watch as you writhed, brows knit and bitten lips pushed out in a sweet little pout. You looked perfect, you felt perfect, walls pulsing around the length squelching in and out. 

He was fucking you with it, and you were on the verge, ready to explode from a white hot pressure filling your belly. Shit… this had to be a sin of some kind.

Sukuna tugged your hair, leaning you back and supporting your weight to give you both a full view of how he stretched you out. “Look at that. Poor little pussy can barely handle the whole thing.” He thrust that tongue in deep and curled and you cried out. 

“Oh god! I-I can't—” 

“Do it,” He commanded and whatever was holding the dam back, broke. Head thrown back, your chest heaved with a strangled noise erupting as you spasmed, nails raking down his arms. 

As slick leaked into his maw, trembling in Sukuna’s grip as he groaned with the feeling, the taste of you coming undone, your fuzzy mind went…

Stars… 

As you rode the last waves, he pulled out of your twitching pussy, giving your clit a flick and humming a laugh when you jolted. 

“Well, where did all that attitude go? Speechless already, brat?” He mocked, watching your lashes flutter and eyes struggle to focus into a glare. On fire with a flush that raced across your cheeks and chest. 

“Pu-put me down you fiend.” You huffed and pushed weakly at his chest and Sukuna barked a laugh. Grinning wicked and feral with gleaming canines and your tummy clenched all over again.

“No-no, I’m not done with you.” Your knees hit the hard stone as Sukuna sat back on the ledge, thighs spread over his, letting your weight drop into his lap and right onto his cocks, pushing your hips back to grind you against the thick lengths. The feeling had you choke on air and despite thinking he would destroy you if he stuck one in, god forbid both, your cunt throbbed and you were painfully aware of how empty you felt. 

“Not even close, wife.”