KINKTOBER 3RD — monsterfucking
pyramid head!könig catching you in your nurse costume in an alley as you're on your way to a party.
cw — monsterfucking, dub-con, breeding
you should've known better than to walk on the abandoned side of town. the side no one wandered anymore because of the rumors and stories of a monster so heinous, most people never stepped foot outside again.
but it's halloween night, and you're late for a party that you'd finally managed to get an invite for. scantily clad in a sexy nurse costume and your white heels, you took your chance despite the slim odds.
however, you'd come to regret that decision very soon, the second you step cross the threshold, actually. with a grimace, you plug your nose to rid yourself of the foul smell that lingers in the air, and you don't think it's just abandoned garbage.
no big deal, though. you can handle a bad smell as long as you make it to the party on time, and you have perfume in your purse that you can reapply if the stench sticks to your skin and clothes.
so you walk on in your tiny costume and tall heels, the click echoing off the alleyway walls you decided to duck down.
you had been in this part of town when you were younger, way before it had become what it is now. desolate, disgusting, and abandoned. it brought you bitter nostalgia to walk through the buildings again, but now wasn't the time to reminisce on old times.
because a sound from across the alley reaches your ears, bouncing off the brick that doesn't absorb the waves. it's a gross sound, one that sends sickness to your stomach as you listen to the squelching and slick.
you found the reason people don't make it out if here.
some odd hundred or so feet away, behind shadows and rusting dumpsters, you can spot a silhouette.
and it's massive.
your heart stops in your chest and your steps stutters. unfortunately, the clacking of your heels seems to draw its attention. the squelching comes to a stop, leaving the air bitter with an awkward, and somehow, loud silence.
könig was feasting on his latest prey when his attention was brought elsewhere. a sickly sweet scent that stuck out from the stench of the alley, his domain.
and he'd be lying if he said his cock didn't chub up at the thought of a pretty thing in his area to ravage.
your scared little face as his silhouette rose to his face send the blood rushing south under his butcher's smock. the harsh outline of the pyramid atop his skull making its slow turn towards you in a way so menacing, your feet are frozen. stuck, like you're in cement.
you're completely, utterly fucked. even if you managed to kick off your heels, no way could you outrun this behemoth of a monster in his territory that he surely knew like the back of his hand.
but like a foolish, little human, you tried. your exhausted breaths after running a few blocks down, and the soft clink with the metal of your purse didn't nothing to help you conceal your position.
after all, his massive, brutish silhouette appeared in front of you when you turned the corner. bumping into his firm chest, you stumbled backwards before he grabbed hold of you.
a pretty, little thing you. something he could use, and keep around.
könig was lonely, no doubt. no one ever came to visit, he had no one to cherish. at least in the way his monsterous self wants to.
debauched and filthy to the bone. he wanted to tear you into little pieces and satisfy his deepest cravings, his sweet tooth.
you struggled against his firm grasp, but with his size, it was completely and utterly useless. he could lift you with a single hand, without struggle, and haul you around like a little rag doll.
a mere toy to satisfy that burning ache between his thighs. it's not his fault your nurse dress is so short, and your legs so appetizing.
it's not his fault the material torn so easily, and your strength weak in comparison to his thick muscles, corded and strong. he barely felt a budge as you tried to fight him off.
silly little girl. he was going to have his gun with you.
now clad only in that white bra and lacy panties, a growl echoed past his lips, grunting at your squeak. the warmth of your skin only made his want worse, his craving.
he pushed his bloodstained smock aside, his thick, heavy cock red and hard. veined with infection of whatever plague he carried and unkempt.
a whimper fell from your lips at the sight, cheeks flushing with the thought of that fitting inside your tight cunt. you think you'd die trying, and that isn't your ideal way to go.
his heavy breaths echoed within his pyramid, his chest rising and falling as he stared and studied you in his big hands.
he seemed to be...examining until he brought you down towards his cock, lining up with your tight entrance. your fight had diminished, seemingly useless because you couldn't budge an inch from his firm grip.
könig wasn't concerned about you when he speared his cock into your pussy, nearly splitting you in half as he forced his way inside. down to the base, it burned and ached, and you could already feel the slick of blood begin to drip from between your thighs.
you cried out, and he wilted. he had that much of a consciousness to not like that sound, but his hips rocked forward, using your body as if it were merely a doll.
a purr rumbled in his chest, head thrown back as his ruts into your pussy speed up. god, you felt so good and warm, unlike anything he's ever indulged in.
your tiny hands grasped at his around your waist as he shoved you down on his throbbing cock, yearning to fill you full of his sticky seed. mark you with his scent and keep you like a pet. a good little human he can keep full, maybe even give a litter to.
his fingers dug into your skin at the thought, the sound of skin slapping speeding up as he builds a faster pace. he's close.
so close to what he wants, this craving that's almost satisfied as he pounds his cock into your cunt. whines mindlessly falling from his lips until he spills his seed, warmth coating your walls and dripping from your entrance.
too tired to move, too tired to protest as he drags you back to his den. you think it's over, now he's satisfied his base urges, he'll kill and devour you, ravage your body.
maybe that's what he'll do, eventually, but for now, he chooses to fuck your body until he's gotten his fill.
unfortunately, you're added as another statistic. another person to have gone missing when wandering into the wrong side of town, and you can't tell whether or not you're mad about it.
Wholesome!König who metamorphoses into the ultimate European Dad whenever you go to the beach.
Insists on picking you up at 7:15am sharp so you can arrive before all the good spots are taken? Check.
Pulling up his weather app at 15 minute intervals the whole ride there, updating you on wind speed, pollen count, and UV index? Check.
A chunky, waterproof watch on his wrist with three alarms set to ensure the day stays on schedule? Check.
Sunscreen applied to every conceivable inch of skin, with an extra thick glob on his nose? Check.
Swim trunks with tiny pineapples that you bought him after the first time he tried to wear a Speedo to the beach? Check.
But for all his foibles, the day you spend together is truly the highlight of your summer. Arriving early to set up your towels, chairs, and umbrella in the right spot was the best move; the generous application of sunscreen prevents you and your dreadfully fair-skinned boyfriend from becoming sunburnt; and to his credit, his regimented, Austrian work ethic does turn off once you're truly settled in your spot.
You alternate between sunbathing, walking up and down the shoreline, and cooling off in the ocean. You've never had a relationship this easy - anything you suggest, he's already halfway done making it happen. Plus, seeing his Baywatch body and muscular build on full display fills you with a mix of desire and smugness, like you know the other women on the beach wish they were you.
When lunch rolls around, König sweeps you out of the water and carries you to the towel "so your wet feet don't get sandy." You would be embarrassed if it didn't heal your inner sixth grader, who'd always dreamed of a man so chivalrous.
It is entirely unsurprising that he's packed an incredible picnic lunch, with kartoffelsalat and hearty roast beef sandwiches and those little packs of pretzel sticks kids used to trade in the cafeteria. He also withdraws a small pitcher from the lunch box and shyly explains that he tried to make mojitos, but he's certain they're terrible and, honestly, you don't actually need to drink it, he's got some water bottles under the icepacks...
When you finally wrap up your day, you're relaxed and sleepy and as happy as you've been in a long, long time. König insists that you remain lounging on your towel while he packs everything else into the car. You doze off on the ride home as your boyfriend smiles fondly and turns down the radio as not to wake you.
[Smut beneath the cut.]
He tries to drop you off at home, but you demand he come inside and at least shower off so he doesn't have to drive back to the barracks grimy with sweat, sunscreen, and sand. Of course he agrees - the man has never said no to you in his life, even before he finally had the courage to ask you out - and he turns eggplant-purple when you casually shuck your swimsuit to join him.
You're stupidly horny for him after seeing him half-naked all day, so you take your sweet time lathering your vanilla bodywash into his skin. He sighs beneath the steam of the shower and the ministrations of your hands, shoulders slumping like his joints and tendons finally realized he's no longer in a combat zone. Blissed out and half way to falling asleep on his feet.
But he wakes right the fuck up when your fingers creep lower and you begin to massage his cock.
König loves your handjobs. He says you're unbelievably good at them and he never needs to worry that his size is hurting you - a frequent insecurity of his when you first became intimate. While you languidly work his hardening member back and forth, you rest your head between his pecs as the water pours down on you both.
He makes the most pathetic little whimpers as your lazy tugs turn into proper pumping. One of his hands flies against the tiles to keep himself steady against the urge to turn into a puddle at your feet.
When you tell him its time to wash his hair, he seems perfectly willing to accept that the handjob is over without having come. But when you ask him to get on his knees so you can reach his head, he quickly picks up on what's actually happening: a perfect excuse to smush his face into your tits.
König may love your handjobs, but he worships breasts.
You squirt some shampoo onto his head and begin to spread it through his short hair while König attends to your chest. Sucking, rubbing his face, thumbing your nipples, and whispering breathless gratitude into your cleavage. It's not terribly long before he picks up where you left off, the wet noises of his hand sliding over his cock speaking to something primal in your cavewoman brain. "I'm so lucky," he says over and over again. "So fucking lucky."
It doesn't take long for him to empty his balls, splattering your legs as he leans so hard into your body you nearly topple. The shower quickly washes away the mess as he plants a final kiss beneath the swell of one breasts.
He quickly asks what you'd like in return - he's happy to lick your pussy for the rest of the night, or he could sit you on his lap and use his fingers - but all you really want right now is a nap. There's something so satisfying about pampering this man, who got dealt a shit hand in life but is somehow still the type to fumble his way through a homemade mojito recipe if he thinks it'll make you smile.
Neither of you bother to put clothes back on as you collapse into bed and wrap your bodies around each other. You think to yourself, not for the first time, what a wonderful father he would make. You can picture with ease König's big hands spreading sunscreen over a little boy who has his eyes and your hair.
A goal for next summer, maybe.
===
I dont usually do requests, but I would literally jump off a bridge for @the-californicationist ❤️💕🧡 Thanks for the prompt, Cali!!
I've been thinking a lot about König and apathetic! reader who doesn't care what he does as long as you're fed good food.
He tries to hide it at first. He really does. He does his best to stay out of sight when he's following you home every day and he tries not to let you know that it's him that leaves food on your doorstep every day. He worries about you taking proper care of yourself so once he realizes that you like his cooking, he can't resist leaving you home cooked meals.
One afternoon, his oven breaks and he figures that he should be able to just use yours while he waits for his new one to be delivered. He loses track of time as he balances baking a Sachertorte and cooking up a pot of Käsespätzle. He's so focused on getting all of the details right that he doesn't hear you get home from work or you walking to the kitchen to see what the commotion is about.
"That smells good. I was gonna watch River Monsters if you wanna join when you're done." You say as you walk to your living room.
König nearly jumps out of his skin and then just stares at you as you sit down on your couch and turn on your TV. He quickly plates both your and his food and hurries to the living room with them.
"So... You don't care that I'm in your house...?" He asks softly as he hands you your plate.
"If someone wants to break in and do chores for me, I really couldn't care less. You can have a key if you're gonna cook for me all the time." You respond with a shrug as you take a bite.
König blinked. You were even more perfect than he thought.
I have come to realize that a lot of my readers are Virgins. And I'm not fucking surprised.
But as someone who has had sexual experiences and knows the differences between smut vs real sex, I'll give you naughty virgins a real taste of what the real first time would be like.
So here it is.
Slight NSFW post ahead!
For the Virgins: How CoD men would realistically take your first time
Starting off with the basics: it's not gonna be fluffy, it's not gonna be wildly horny, there won't be any of that weird porno some of y'all might have read online. Real sex is nothing like that. Even if you were experienced, most couples only behave like ravaging animals 20% of the time while having sex, the rest is just chill love making.
So if you're a Virgin? These men aren't gonna be pinning you down and pounding you like there is no tomorrow. Heck, you might not even cum the first time and that is normal.
I will be focusing on these characters: Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, König and Keegan.
1. Before the sex starts
Sex starts outside the bedroom. For a lot of couples, foreplay is the largest part of sex, not the penetration part. And the CoD men are no different.
If you mention beforehand that you're a Virgin, these men would not panic. That is not a weird thing, it's intel about your body and mind.
Expect them all to say something along the lines of "We start when you're ready", because they're not about to do something that could potentially traumatize you.
Sex can be pleasurable, but they are aware of the negatives and they'd want to be the last to cause you to hate it. They'd want you to be ready and comfortable.
When you signal that you're ready, these guys are gonna be extra attentive. They're already operators trained to read every small body language, but now they'd be 110% focused.
Some of them (Ghost, König, Keegan) would be less verbal and simply rely on their senses to notice if you're uncomfortable. Think, as you're making out and they're touching you, their eyes notice every flinch, every breath, every move. They'd also use their hands to notice if you start to tremble or pull back.
The moment you signal even the slightest discomfort, they'd stop, stare at your eyes like a sniper would, and ask something low like "Okay?". But they won't continue if your words don't match your body. They know better than this.
The others (Price, Gaz and Soap) would be a bit more verbal, but only because they want to make you feel the transition be smoother. They still notice everything about you like the other 3 do, but while Ghost, König and Keegan focus on making you comfortable through smooth touches, Price, Gaz and Soap would also want to guide you.
Your first time could make you be split-minded about whether you want to have sex. Insecurities like leg/pubic hair, performance anxiety, or simply fear of pain can cause you to question if you should continue. That's why the extroverts (again, Price and Soap) would use their military leadership skills to help you with your decision making, and not let you panic over it.
Don't mistake this for them trying to force you. They're simply trying to help you decide what to do next. If you show any discomfort, they all stop point blank.
Some lines each man might say during this part:
Price:
“You keep lookin’ at me like that, love, I’ll start thinkin’ you’re up to trouble.”
"Mm. That smile—dangerous.”
“Careful. I might get used to this.”
Gaz:
“You look good like this, y’know.”
“Not in a rush. Just like being here.”
"You’ve got that look. Don’t even try to deny it.”
Soap:
“Aye, don’t hide that grin. Suits you.”
“What, you shy now? Thought you were tougher than me.”
“Easy, bonnie. I’ll start thinkin’ you like me.”
2. Escalation
From here, if you haven't pulled away or shown signs of distress, things start to get more heated.
They're still reading all of your cues, just in case they need to pull back, but assuming you don't want to, they continue smoothly.
I'll be honest, I cannot tell you how experienced Ghost or König are due to their closed off nature and their past, but they would use their soldier training to not let it become awkward for you two.
On this part, expect deeper kisses and more firm touches. Some of them (Keegan, Price, Gaz) would likely guide you down, laying you so you're comfortable and they can just take charge. Others (Ghost, Soap, König) would keep you on their lap to allow you to set the pace. This angle gives Ghost and König more control for grounding you physically, while Soap would use this to keep it more light hearted and intimate.
As things start to progress more, they all start to guide you firmly. It's likely that you're still feeling anxious about it, so they don't let you strip into those thoughts. Expect more deeper kisses that don't break, more eye contact, more hands touching you closer to your core but never reaching, just testing the waters.
Ghost and König continue being less verbal, but they will say grounding words if your brain starts to overthink. Think things like "Look at me", "Stay", or "You're good".
The others (Price, Gaz, Soap and Keegan) are more verbal, but all at different levels and with different vibes.
Soap would lean into slightly dry teasing bordering commanding. He'd say things like “Don’t tense. That’s mine to handle, not yours.” if you tense, or “Aye, look at you—doin’ so well.” when you kiss him back needily.
Keegan is more direct and cuts through your thoughts like a sniper. He would say things like “Stop thinkin’. I’ll handle it.” or if you fidget “Eyes on me. Nothin’ else matters.”
Gaz would have this grounding, mature effect that feels like he knows what he's doing. He would say things like “You’re alright. Just stay with me.” as he smiles against your lips, or “Don’t overthink it. Just feel me here with you.” if you get nervous.
Price would feel the most mature. His words would make you feel like you can surrender. His tone has this certainty to it, but an edge of teasing as well. If your hands start pulling him mid kisses due to urgency and heat, he'd pull back slightly and say “Mm, look at you… brave little thing, aren’t you? But you don’t need to push it. I’ll guide you.” because he wants to be in control. Or he might say “Steady now. Don’t rush it. You follow me, and we’ll do this right.” to let you know he knows what he's doing and you can trust him in it.
2.3. Escalation - Oral
Since this is your first time, some of the men would insist on giving you oral so you can associate sex with pleasure, and not just piv (penis-in-vagina).
The men who would do this would be Price, Gaz and Keegan (since they already laid you down).
They all would use oral as a tool to ground you, but they all have different reasons for it.
Price uses it to rile you up and get you wetter. He would absolutely eat you out until you cum. He wouldn't care if you got nervous and started overthinking. He has enough experience to know how to use his tongue, fingers, and commanding voice to make you surrender into it.
Expect lots of eye contact to make you squirm, teasing strokes as he fingers you, and he wouldn't be Price if he didn't tell you "Relax, love. I've got this." at the start, and finished with "Look how good you're takin' it." when your thighs are twitching.
Keegans main goal wouldn't be making you cum. He's too pragmatic about it. He would view oral as the extra step to guide and learn your body, and if cumming happens, it happens. He knows first times can make you too nervous to fully get there.
Keegan would be less verbal, but he'd notice the way your body shifts, how your breathing hitches, or your eyes stay closed to focus. He would use more physical ways to try and test your limits, so he would spread your thighs more if you started overthinking, pin your hips if you started squirming, and keep eye contact as his tongue and fingers study every twitch.
If you twitch too much, Keegan would say short, clipped words to keep you focused. Things like "Stay open for me." or "Good. Just like that." when you relax a bit.
Gaz would also try to make you orgasm during oral, but his main priority is grounding you and making you relax. He would actually turn more commanding during oral, since he's aware this moment is vulnerable and your head might be spinning.
He would also study you like Keegan, but he'd use that to steady you first. Once you fully relax, he would experiment with different strokes and licks, trying to get you into a pleasurable state before moving into piv. He wants you completely wet and shaking here.
Gaz wouldn't be very vocal during oral, only when he needs to be. For example, if you hesitate to spread your legs, he'd say "Wider. That’s it.”. If you tense up, he'd say “Easy. Don’t fight me.”. And when you start to relax, he'd say "Good girl. Just like that.". His voice would be like a man who knows what he's doing, and you can trust.
Soap, Ghost and König would not aim for oral because in their logic, it might actually cause you to feel too exposed to fully relax.
Soap would keep you on edge by teasing you physically and verbally. He wouldn't need oral to acclimate you for piv.
Ghost would be too focused on breaking your psyche apart and grounding you so you don't spiral. His touches and kisses would feel heavy, deliberate, and intense.
König would be similar to Ghost, but instead of slow and deep kisses, he would end up letting loose just a bit so you can feel his hunger. He uses his size and physical dominance to guide and steady you.
3. Penetration
This is when things shift the most.
It won't be clumsy; all of these men are too trained in controlling every muscle to permit that. But you won't be experiencing fireworks either. Some of them might get there by accident, but the main goal of piv is to get you steady and used to it.
Now, how you get there and what happens after depends on each of them. So let's get started.
3.1. Price
He has you laid down, already twitching from cumming from oral, and now his fingers touch your inner thigh to ground you as you calm down.
He first lets the high go down before he inserts himself. Once you're finally not panting and flushed too much, he unzips his pants (which ofc he kept intack), reveals his dick and just lets you look at it so you can register what is about to happen next.
He still teases here, but less. His focus shifts and you can almost feel the captain (or major if you follow my writings) in him. First he presses his tip over your clit, which is still pulsing a bit from cumming earlier, and just lets your body take in his heat, his slight dripping pre-cum, and the hardness that is about to enter you.
If you panic, his hands find your hips to ground you and he says "Easy, love. I'm not goin' in till you're ready."
You are bound to feel a bit of anxiety, but it's mixed with thrill and curiosity. He knows that.
So he starts to slowly grind his dick over your folds, the tip going near your entrance but not touching it yet. He tells you in that low, husky voice of his "Feel that? It's yours."
Your anxiety starts to melt into need, your breathing turning into a steady panting as your eyes follow his movements.
He allows his tip to touch your entrance, his wet pre-cum dripping out of him and making you gasp. You probably feel a little shy, a little fascinated, a little too wet.
He doesn't go in, yet. He just lets you have a taste.
He takes out a condom from whatever bloody pocket he had it saved, and then with teasing precision puts it on, letting you see it roll over his length. He wants you to notice how long and girthy it is, making your brain imagine how that would feel inside you.
When finally on, he places it at your entrance, his eyes staring at your face, looking for any sign of panic. When he finds none and only sees need, he inserts just a small amount. You're so wet you don't need lube, though he had prepared some just in case.
You release a soft gasp, barely audible, and he just keeps it there.
"Breathe." He commands, his voice quieter than usual.
Every time you do, your walls unclench, and he goes in just a bit deeper.
Every few seconds, you feel him inside more and more, until he is fully in.
He doesn't thrust yet, just stays and lets you feel his hardness. The feeling is weird, unusual, hot, maybe even a bit awkward. You are hyper aware and despite your wetness, you can feel the condom, the texture of the rubber making your eyebrows knit.
You stay quiet because it's your first time, and you don't know what the hell you're doing. But Price gets you ready, wet, and steady, and his thrusts are slow till you get used to it.
From here on, he penetrates you with deep, slow thrusts that drag like your soul is being taken out and put in over and over again. It's not painful, but it makes you surrender into pliancy, leaving Price in charge.
Just as he had planned.
3.2. Keegan
Keegan stays focused after oral. If you came, he let you ride it out until you couldn't. And then he steadies you, pressing down on your stomach and allowing you room to breathe before he moves onto the next step.
If you didn't cum, he doesn't panic. He simply kisses your inner thighs and then comes up to kiss you, trailing your stomach, sternup, collarbones and then neck. He kisses you in precise kisses that are not sloppy, but a little wet. His finger stays down to rub your clit in slow, almost lazy circles, keeping the feeling of pleasure steady.
He does not kiss your lips. He is too aware that you might not enjoy your own taste. He keeps lips between your neck and jaw, sometimes nipping you to rile your body up.
He doesn't allow you to escape your neediness. He wants you there, not overthinking about the next step, but instead curious, and wet.
His fingers move from your clit to your entrance, slipping two of them inside slowly. Even though he had fingered you, this feels a bit more different. Your nervousness makes you feel the joints and your wetness does not cover the harshness of his fingertips.
But he rides you slowly, in a way that makes you stay steady and spread for him. Once your walls loosen more, he keeps the pace for a few seconds more before slowly, almost teasingly, removing his fingers from you.
You whine just a bit, by accident. He keeps kissing you on your throat, his other hand pinning you by the side of your head, his forearm laid down to keep him on top and not squishing you.
Without breaking the kisses, he takes out a condom from his back pocket, throws it besides your hips, unbuckles his belt and takes his pants off just enough to reveal his dick.
He doesn't let you see it. It simply falls over your folds, where you can feel his pre-cum drip over you, making you realize how wet and horny he is to have you. His movements are calculated and controlled, but his wetness cannot hide his urges.
His hand finds the condrom and manages to rip it singlehandedly. With one smooth motion, he puts it on his dick, all while his lips still kiss you.
He finally leans back to look at your face, his nose nearly brushing yours, his tip lazily hanging on top of your core's folds. His eyes are intense and searching for a confirmation to enter. And when you stare at him in that near pliant, needy, a little scared but also curious way, he knows to go in slowly.
One hand finds his dick and he puts the tip in, keeping your body pinned under him, eyes still on your face. You cannot escape his stare, and it embarrases you as much as it turns you on.
His tip stays in your entrance, letting you settle to the feeling first. It feels a little soft to you, the condom feeling warm and odd, like an alien object not made to enter you.
But he pushes in just a bit deeper, just a tad, making you forget about those thoughts. Now your eyebrows knit and mouth parts to a soft, shaky breath, the ancticipation riling you up more than the actual move he pulled.
Slow, and steady, he enters. He doesn't stop unless he sees you flinch; but you don't. And once all the way in, he stays there, letting you feel how hard and full he is. The warmth surprises you, it is not what you expected.
Your brain starts to analyze the feeling, making your walls twitch by accident.
Keegan hisses in a sharp breath, his cock flexing inside you.
He is getting used to you as much as you're getting used to him.
There, you both study each other for a few seconds before his hips starts to move. The rhythm is painfully slow at first, getting your walls to stretch with time. This is about easing you, not pleasing, you at first.
And once you're softer, your breathing calmer and expression relaxed, he starts to thrust just a bit faster.
His pace remains the same for the majority of it. You don't feel overwhelmed. Instead, it feels grounding, almost like this was an experience you were supposed to have.
You don't explode in emotions, just manage to breathe steadily, moan softly and rely on Keegan as the anchor you didn't know you needed, but now you have.
3.3. Gaz
Gaz is a mix of the confident Sergeant that you know, and his caring side as he eats you out. But unfortunately, it is your first time so everything he did felt intense and much more shameful than you could've imagined.
It was even more embarrasing when you actually came from it. His fingers were rolling inside you in a steady rhythm, his tongue licking you nonstop, the pace just that comfortable feeling where your pleasure is dragged for a long time until your thighs start twitching into a soft, nearly slumber orgasm.
You feel a little tired from it, actually. And Gaz knows it. But he doesn't stop yet.
He simply places his palm over your stomach to ground you, the warmth feeling cozy and calming your body down.
Gaz looks at your face, his gaze is a mix of control and softness you cannot pint point exactly. He looks like he's assesing you, making your hazy brained sight fall pliant and let him take over.
Gaz leans closer, getting on top of you. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip while you barely keep your eyes open. But your breathing is steady, and that's all that matters to him.
"You did good." He says in a low hum.
His eyes find your lips, his thumb pressing a bit more on your bottom one. He looks a little hungrier than before, suddenly making you realize that he's not finished yet.
His hand drags from your lips, down to your jaw, fingers trailing down your neck, collarbone and then sternum, in a slow, nearly ticklish wave. His eyes follow the hand, and all of a sudden, your cheeks flush at the realization that your top is folded over your breasts, revealing parts of you which you deem embarrasing.
But before you can protest, his other hand finds your thigh and keeps it open, making you squirm in shock.
"Shhh..." he hushes you softly. "I got you" he hums.
His voice feels comforting, but his touches makes you deeply aware of your own existence, almost like every finger pressed on your skin reveals a part of your soul you should keep hidden.
"Breathe" he says to ground you, voice carrying that soft command you've learned to love.
So you naturally do.
And just as your chest rises and falls to his palm atop of it, you feel his fingers run from your thigh, in to your core again. You don't panic this time, you just trust.
One finger lazily rubs your clit as you stay steady, but your breathing naturally falters a bit. You still feel that sensation from cumming earlier, even though it's soft.
His finger rubs you just enough to get you wet again, which takes mere second. You can't not get wet; especially when his eyes look down at your clit and the way he rubs it.
It's emotionally intense. You're too aware of your own body for your own good, but he has a hold of it, and you couldn't have another man touch you like he does.
You're now breathing in small shallow breaths, a little shy, maybe even awkward, while he stares as you get wetter and wetter.
His other hand shifts. It moves from your chest all the way to the side of your head, where he finds a condom you didn't know he had put there.
He slowly pulls it towards him, letting you see exactly where his hands go. He doesn't let you dazed, every motion serves as a preparation towards what's coming next.
His other hand keeps the steady rhythm on your clit, while the condom wrapper finds his teeth. He slowly rips it, to not mess it up.
Your breath falters a bit, anticipation building up. You've gotten so wet you don't even feel yourself down there.
Once open, he tugs his sweatpants down, revealing his member, hard, a little twitching, almost hungry to go in. But Gaz has restraint and your logical side knows as much.
He slides the condom on his dick in a smooth motion. The fingers that were flicking your clit slide down, almost teasingly, and find your dripping wet opening.
Gaz huffs through his nose, a little satisfied knowing he got you here.
One finger slowly slides in your core, making your breath shiver, a little needy from the way he keeps dragging this. But that's exactly what Gaz wants from you. Not shy, not anxious. Wanting.
When you finally release a whine, that's when he slowly removes his finger and replaces it with his tip.
He hums a soft throaty groan, accidental or not, but his restraint is like an avalanche needing one sound to break it. Except he won't.
Very slowly, painfully even, he starts going in you, all the way till he fills you up. He stays put for a few seconds, his breath hitching at how warm you feel. You can feel his cock twitch just a bit, his eyebrows crossing between control and need.
You stare in fascination and hunger, your lips parted just slightly at the feeling going in between your legs.
His thrusts start, very slow and steady, not giving you more than you can handle.
It feels wet, too wet. Both of your breaths are barely audible, but they fill the room. The sound of his thrusts makes your brain finally catalogue the fact that he's in you. He's in you.
You slip a soft moan. Big mistake. Now Gaz's hips move at a faster rhythm, pulling out that feeling of pleasure you were not aware you would feel on your first time. It isn't overwhelming, but it's cozy and full of heat, the thrusts making your thighs twitch just a tad.
And Gaz keeps you pinned under him to ground you, one hand holding your hip, the other resting beside your head. His face is mere centimeters away and all you can focus on is how he is pushing you between comfort and pleasure; a feeling you won't forget even when you're both done.
3.4. Soap
Soap has got you feeling hungry, a little annoyed, and impatient while he's kissing you on his lap. His hands grope your thighs, the fingers inching too closely to your inner part and bordering sexual. Except he isn't.
Everything about this man is sexual. So the fact that he is good at holding back makes you frustrated. He's simply too good at that.
When you whine into his lips, finally desperate enough to let him know that you want it, he smirks against your lips and says in that husky, Scottish voice "Easy, hen. You'll get there."
Except getting there is taking a sufferable amount of time.
Next thing you know, your mind is no longer thinking and your brain is heavy with a cloud of lust. You'd think a sex demon was showering in there.
Only now, when you're finally too hazed from hunger to even think about the fact that you're a Virgin, does Soap strike. Just as he had planned.
Now, for some goddamn reason, which you don't even know how it happened, you're under him on the couch, face a little flushed, breathing heavy and Soap smirking over your face.
"Thought you could escape me, hen?"
His lips crash into yours again, this time at a steadier pace compared to the previous, needier ones. It feels almost like a reset.
His hand trails under your t shirt, very slowly, making sure you feel what he is going to do you to.
The other hand has your thigh pinned, a little too open, but you're not even noticing at this point.
Soap's eyes are half lidded. There is a serious, nearly predatory look as he studies you. Your need is consuming your thoughts, unable to register the shift in the air.
When you finally start moaning into his lips, your arms embracing his neck loosely, Soap tilts his head to kiss you deeper. The hand under your t shirt now finds one of your breasts.
He lightly uses his forefinger to pull down the bra, just enough to reveal the top half of a nipple. It's all he needs to start pressing down.
Your moans prolong over your throat, the rumbling sensation vibrating into Soaps lips.
He wants to grin, but he holds back. For once, he allows you to enjoy the moment instead of controlling it. You're limp and thoughtless; the perfect conditions for him to take you.
The hand pinning your thighs gets replaced by his own thigh, keeping you spread and giving him the freedom to touch more. His hand reaches for your jaw, anchoring and almost tenderly at first. Then his lips pull away from yours as he tilts your jaw slightly to the side.
He starts to trail kisses away. First, the corner of your lip, then your cheek, then your jaw. And for some ungodly reason, he finds your earlobe, nips at it, his breath warm against your skin. "Good lass," he purrs huskily.
You gasp softly, almost inaudible at that. The way he has you surrendered would have made you question the independent persona you try to keep up. But you can't not do it. Not when he knows how to.
He starts to kiss down again, this time down the neck and collarbone. His teeth grab the collar of your t shirt and pull it down, teasingly, the only showmanship he performs for you tonight.
Just when your eyes find his, as difficult as it was with your jaw pinned by his hand, Soap huffs though his nose, the state of your curiosity amusing him.
"Still got that figh' in ye, huh," he says, but there is no longer that teasing edge he usually uses.
Instead, he continues kissing down. The hand that was once rubbing your nipple has now unraveled your top, breasts peeking out. His mouth finds your nipple and sucks in precise, measured rhythms. His tongue licks it, making your lips part, and you can feel yourself getting wet just a bit.
Your breathing is surprisingly steady. You're in such a cozy position, warm, needy, but also not overthinking; a magic like wonder Soap has carefully crafted for you.
His now free hand starts reaching down. In a quiet, slow motion, he manages to unzip your pants. He doesn't pull them off, just spreads the zipper folds open as his fingers brush over your revealed panties. He doesn't care for theatrics. His main mission is getting you comfortable and eased into it.
You can feel the way he sucks your breast and his fingers trailing slowly under your pants. It comes to a point where he brushes your clit, but the awkwardness of the zipper makes his hand halt.
Without panic, he simply shifts. His hand now trails to the side, finding the upper thigh and slowly pulling the pants off from the back, his big hand nearly cupping your ass.
Slow and steady, kiss after kiss, his hand manages to pull down your pants until they're mid thigh. Not ideal, but a start.
The air there feels a little cold, making your dazy state wake up a bit. But instead of embarrassment, you feel everything with curiosity. You want to know what he does next. You don't care that you're a little naked.
His fingers find your clit, rubbing slow circles over your panties. His lips start to trail down, so featherly it tickles your skin.
Mere seconds pass by when his tongue finds your folds. He licks over your panties first, your clit becoming hard little by little, an anatomical wonder you weren't aware of.
His big hand pins down your hip, while the other teasingly and slowly fiddles with the elastic hem of your panties.
When your steady breath gets replaced with soft pants, and your eyes meet his, that's when his fingers finally pull your panties aside. His tongue finds your clit and there is no barrier between you two. The electronagnetic force pushes your atoms in near proximity.
But it's so wet now. You did not know you could get this wet. And the worst of all is the fact that you don't know what to do with your hands. They're there, nearly limp and awkward, holding onto whatever piece of clothing you can find; yours or a pillows.
As you focus on his flicks, his hands come down and suddenly pull what's left of your pants. You help, semi-consciously, your knees rising to help him take them off.
Now it's just his tongue over your clit as the chilly air breezes over your fully spread legs.
His tongue manages to rub your clit rougher, and sometimes slower, the changing pace causing your breath to hitch and your thighs to jerk.
Soap doesn't allow you much room to move, however. His hand pins your thigh wide open, halting any twitches that your body tries to produce.
The other hand finds your opening and trails a light circle at first, making you feel that he's about to enter.
Your pulse spikes, a thrilling sensation engulfind over your chest, warming your chilled body up from the anticipation.
His fingers finally slide in and start rolling in a steady rhythm, sometimes matching the way he licks your clit, other times it has it's own mind.
Your brain is not fully calm. You want to experience this as much as you think you're supposed to enjoy it. But Soap doesn't fret. He knows your first time will make you curious.
As you get wetter and wetter, he finally slows down and releases you. His hand pulls down his grey sweatpants, reveling the twitchy hard member you've wondered about but never have seen.
Now, Soap grabs a condom from wherever he kept it hidden. Opens the wrapper with a calm that feels too calm, and in one smooth motion, he puts it on his cock.
"I'll be slow," he says in a quiet whisper, the voice filling the sudden echo-less room.
Your breathing is shallow, lips parted as your eyes follow his every movement. The buildup makes you anxious, thrilled, and hungry all at once.
He places the tip over your opening, the wetness nearly causing him to slip deeper.
You release a soft gasp, the anxiousness being replaced by this feeling in your gut. Not butterflies, no. A fire.
Soap notices your moodiness, the way you keep switching from anticipation, to anxiety, to hunger. So he hushes you.
"Shhh... Don't think, hen. Just feel."
And he slowly starts going in, the pace easing you into the way his cock fills you up, but slow enough for you to push him away if you change your mind.
Naturally you don't, the way his weins feel over the condom, a little less sharp than you had imagined, but just noticeable enough to make you wonder what he'd feel like fully raw.
When he finally reaches the end, all of his cock fully in, he breaths a low guttural growl. His eyes search yours for discomfort, and then continues when he sees none.
He thrusts. It's slow. A pace you always imagined, but never emotionally prepared for.
It's a purgatory. On one hand, you're relaxed enough to not panic, on the other, the first time makes your senses heighten, and every thrust feels like a mix of an alien being inside you and a fulfilling need you've been craving for weeks now.
Soap takes you slowly. He chooses to let you feel his restraint, the way his eyes look at you in that sharp, military precision he has, while his hips don't take more than he can get.
Your first time is an ease for the future. Nothing reckless, but just enough to make you curious for more. Because with Soap, this is not all he can give.
Soap always keeps hidden more underneath. And those will be reserved for when he knows you can take them.
3.5. Ghost
While you were on Ghosts lap, he had managed to flip your skirt up. It was not an accidental wear. You put it on specifically because you had anticipated it.
Ghost had been attuned to your needs from the start. He paced himself and respected your readiness, not taking more than what you had discussed, never laying a finger more than what you would permit.
So today, as you finally reached this point, you wanted to let him know that you were ready, that you wanted to be taken by him.
Obviously, that was not as easy as you had anticipated. You thought your brain would be too occupied in the heat to notice the way his fingers lifted the hem of your skirt. Or you didn't think you'd feel just how hot his breath felt over your neck.
The worst of all was when he found your panties, the cute ones you wore to get ready for today. You wanted to be prepared, cleanly shaven, but now in front of him, you are starting to realize that this comes off as too needy. And you're not even experienced enough to make such a bold declaration yet.
But while you were cooped up in your head, overthinking how you might seem too slutty and eager, Ghost noticed the way your eyes would stare but not look at him. He noticed the way your hands stopped moving, unaware where to touch. He noticed how you suddenly went a little stiff, your breathing shallower than before.
This time, Ghost did not take these as rejection, but as intel.
His hands guided you, grabbing your wrist and gently pinning your palms against his chest. His kisses were slow and deep, not passionate to cloud your judgment, just enough to prepare you before anything went further. He did not want you pliant. Not yet.
The way he held and kissed you gave you just enough power to think, letting you decide the pace of the ongoing mental chess game you weren't even aware of.
So when you finally relaxed into his touch, his thumb slowly caressing atop the hem of your underwear, your mind went just soft enough to trust him.
There was an almost grounding way he held you. Your thoughts didn't spin, even though they wanted to.
His thumb slid inside your undies, the elastic band stretching with it. You could feel the harshness of his texture graze your now cleanly shaven bits, something that both, aroused and frustrated you.
The touch felt almost ticklish, and not enough. You wanted more.
So imagine the breath that left your lips when he finally reached your clit, slow circles rubbing at an angle that felt nearly right, but you're too new to know better. Too new to know there is better.
But Ghost doesn't rush you. He lets you feel the new sensations, making just enough room for your hips to adjust in case you want to. Which is such a silly thing, really. His other hand is holding your back and you feel stuck, like a variable running perpetually in an algorithm; free to move, but never ending.
His lips brush your neck, a sensation you rarely feel, but a sensation meant to be felt.
Your pulse spikes, the rhythm in which he rubs your clit causing a feverish state over your cheeks. Luckily you didn't wear blush today. You didn't need it now.
Ghosts eyes are half lidded, his lips touching right at the spot where your heart beats loudest. He analyzes you, calculations run inside his head as he moves every new piece. Your soft breaths confirm that he has you just where he wants you.
When your hips subconsciously shift, closer to where you want him to touch, his fingers slide down, finding the dampness which is slowly building to a waterfall.
You should be embarrassed, but you've waited so long that you stopped caring.
One finger slides in, slow and measured, testing how your walls take the bits of him he allows you to take.
His thumb remains on your clit, the circles keeping you in that perpetual shaky state.
The feeling that encapsulates you is less physical and more mental, the way he dominates you so casually pegging your neurons in a seduced headspace.
Your walls are tight, too tight for the size of his fingers to fit.
He moves his lips, finding your earlobe. His voice comes out low, hot and commanding.
"Relax."
Your breath stutters, thighs clench, his words only making it worse for him to go in.
But Ghost knows. So he doesn't move. His thumb keeps rubbing, his hot breath makes you too self aware, and you slowly build up the will to unclench your walls.
You're not even sure how you do it. But clumsily, with enough will, it's enough.
"Good." He whispers against your ear, almost a growl.
His finger slides in more. Your wetness allows him to reach just deep enough, the angle making it difficult for more.
But that's not an issue. He doesn't want to go all in yet, he's too calculated.
The rhythm is slow. His finger reaches just halfway, but the curve makes him feel girthier, stretching your walls as you thighs try not to shake.
The wet sounds fill the room. His gruff breathing is near your ear. Shivers run down your spine as your chest starts to rise too fast, too shallow.
The pace in which he fingers you remains the same, methodical and unmoving.
You quickly start to feel needier. Your thighs shake and your eyes stopped seeing beyond his revealed collarbone. It's right in front of you, the perfect position for you to kiss, to suck on, but you don't dare.
Frustrations run down your body, too surrendered to move, too inexperienced to voice it out.
However, Ghost notices. Especially in the way you accidentally slip a whine. It could almost sound like a moan, but he knows better.
And Ghost is not cruel. At least not for today, when it is your first time.
So he pushes two fingers in, tremors running down your thighs at the new fullness filling you up. Your lips part and hips twitch.
"Shhh... Don't move." He commands.
Your body halts, the speed of your reaction faster than it registers in your brain. And when it does, your lips shut tight, and your voice returns in tiny grunts. The commanding tone makes your chest want to swell into a lump of surrender and shame.
Your walls stretch more, the sensation feeling like an elastic band tight and about to snap. But it's not painful. Sure, maybe a bit uncomfortable, but his other hand slides higher, pressing between your shoulder blades, grounding you.
Mere seconds pass, and then his fingers have the freedom to move again. Slow. Meticulous. In ways only Ghost can make it.
His chest presses against yours, his breathing steady. Almost too steady.
Once you're wet enough, stretched enough, he slowly removes his fingers.
He leans back and finally looks at your eyes. His gaze is sharp but not unkind. He dissects your comfort, and in that nearly hummed voice, he speaks, "You sure?".
Your eyes look at him innocently, the edge of sin crossing over them.
You nod, once, too tired and shaken to speak.
He looks at you one more time, seconds stretching into what feels like eternity for you.
Finally, he takes the condom out, the foil tearing sharp between his fingers. One hand stays on your hip, pushing you back just a little, steadying you. The other hand finds yours, placing it over his belt, guiding you to unbuckle it.
Your breath hitches when you finally manage to unzip him, the motion slow, almost hesitant, until his cock is revealed. You stare, caught between fascination and nerves. It looks… big? Maybe. Maybe not. But fitting him in feels like it won’t be easy.
He keeps one hand on your wrist, making sure you don’t pull away, letting your fingers brush over his tip. His other hand tears the packet open and slides the condom free, his eyes never leaving your face.
He doesn’t just do it himself. He makes you do it with him. He places the rubber over his tip, his hand firm on top of yours, guiding your clumsy movements as you both roll it down together. Your hands stiffen, the motion too careful, too slow. His hand steadies yours, patient, methodical.
It isn’t smooth, but it doesn’t have to be.
Only once it’s on does he let go of your hand, both of his gripping your hips again, pulling you back toward him.
"Ready?" He asks.
You take a deep breath and shakily answer a soft yes.
You both work together. His hands hold your hips while your thighs stretch you higher, making your cunt touch the tip.
It feels rubbery. A little wet. And... wrinkly?
His forefinger rubs your clit for a bit, getting you ready and comfortable, before guiding your hips lower, till you feel the one thing you've been craving.
It's slow, a little awkward. Definitely not how you expected it to feel.
You cautiously lower yourself till you're halfway, and then halt. You take a breather, needing to register how it all feels: so full, so thick, a little alien and softer than you imagined.
Ghost watches you, his breathing faltering, a small slip to his otherwise military discipline.
Once calmer, you lower yourself, finally closing all the gap.
It burns a bit. The sensation of your walls stretching, hot, almost feverish down there. Your cheeks flush, the prodding thuds of your walls feeling like a heartbeat.
Ghost leans his forehead near your face, almost touching yours. His hands are on your thigh and hip, making sure you have something to keep you in place. Something to ground you.
Your hands lay awkwardly over his chest, barely touching. The weight of everything engulfing your brain into a cloudy, hot mess. You're still processing, still feeling.
"Breathe..." he murmurs finally.
As you do, your thighs twitch. Just once.
His cock jerks inside you, his breath coming out in a near grunt.
The room feels heavy, thick with heat and fog. Every breath between you turns the air warmer, until it’s like you’re breathing each other in. Nothing else exists outside the sound of his breathing—low, steady, brushing against your ear—and yours, caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
Ghost doesn’t rush. His hands stay locked on your hips, anchoring you, guiding you just slightly forward and back. It’s slow, almost clinical at first, as if he’s teaching your body the rhythm. The stretch burns, but the pace lets you adjust, lets you feel every inch until you can’t tell if the trembling in your thighs is from pain or want.
You react clumsily, every twitch and sharp inhale too loud, too telling. Your body jerks when he moves deeper, your nails drag clumsily across his collarbones, and your breath stutters as if you can’t quite keep up.
He notices everything. The way your lips part but can’t form words. The way your eyes squeeze shut at the new ache, only to open again when his voice cuts through with a quiet command, “Look at me.”
And when you do, when your eyes finally meet his, the weight of everything drops heavy into your chest.
His thrusts stay slow, careful, but it doesn’t stop the heat from crawling up your body, doesn’t stop the feeling that you’re being undone one steady motion at a time. The air, the fog, the sound of him, all of it pins you in place.
Until you realize there’s no turning back.
3.6. König
König's fingers are rough, thick, and his palm can nearly cover your face. He has your jaw locked in place as he kisses you.
You never expected this man to go slow. You never expected him to be soft. Even if he tries, as he is right now, the way his pupils go dark, his breath turns hot against your cheek, his gaze locked on yours?
You had anticipated the physicality of it. He is a mountain of a man, after all. But you weren't prepared for the weight your chest feels as he kisses you. It's not even hungry. It's controlled, precise, kisses that make your lungs feel half sunk in a lake you started to cross but never escaped.
Your body yields at his hands, so small compared to him.
It's not just his size. It's his presence.
König's breathing is heavy, almost animalistic in the way he grunts - low, controlled, and feral.
His eyes flicker in a cold, calculated way over your expression. His eyelashes - pretty blonde ones - showing the only human edge to his otherwise icy stare.
The focused movements of his hands and lips feel warm, nearly cruel, for you're still overthinking and yet simultaneously drowning in the pool of his quiet intensity.
And then his pupils find yours. Blue.
He keeps you pegged, steady bullets finding the pathway to your neurons, like he’s mapping your thoughts in real time.
His chest rises. Yours doesn't.
In the cruelest way he could have moved, his hand lifts - slow, deliberate - fingers tilting your chin up.
"Breathe," he gravels in a near whisper. The softness of his voice could almost fool you.
A line of static jolts runs down your spine. His hummed command lands, settling into your body until your lips part - a gasp - climbing that step that falls between the edge of life and death.
"Good?" he murmurs.
You nod bashfully.
A grunt of satisfaction escapes, whether it was intentional or not, it's unknown.
His head tilts, lips and hot breath tingling the corner of your lip.
He holds it there, eyes scanning for that hesitation that never comes.
Your pulse is steadily burning in chaos, the pace holding no rhythm whatsoever. Yet his lips play with it like an instrument, tracing the softness of your throat that betrays your arousal.
You shouldn't feel this much. You have never felt this much.
König engulfs you in a daze. The inescapable cloud fogging your chest rises to your brain. It's damp. It's damp everywhere. Your neck, your forehead, down there.
Dear God. You're wet.
You're wet and you don't remember if you wore those cute panties or not. Supposed to. Fool.
You hadn't imagined you'd end up here - ready to fall into his hands like the little sinful creature you pretend you're not.
You idiot. You horny idiot. You-
Moan.
And then you gasp.
Königs bulge has doubled in size and you didn't even know this was possible. Where is the physics behind this? Under what law?
He has nipped you by accident. Or not. The situation feverered into want, thoughts unscribbling right as you think.
His own brain was combating between restraint and instinct. He was trained for patience - patience was all he knew. But here you were, unmasking the last bits of yourselves.
There is no more hiding. No more walls. The teasing touches had passed the border of self-restraint - secretly what you wanted, but overwhelmingly under prepared for.
Königs hands somehow reached your thighs, deliberately pulling you so you couldn't escape even an inch of him. You were stuck. You did not want to question that you were stuck.
Your breaths hurried to fuse - the distance too atomic, too far.
Hands stretched into nooks you wouldn't have dared to touch if König wasn't doing the same.
Clothes came off. Somehow you're still on his lap. Motions moved and reversed, and for the longest second, you forgot you were a virgin.
The blue still gazes at you. The light reflecting like an unflinching storm ready to sink you deep.
He doesn't speak. König never does. Instead he reads, and you've never been a more open book.
His girth - and length, but that is obvious - face you. You had done the unthinkable and taken off his boxers just enough to reveal it. You don't even remember if this was your own doing, since his hand was holding your wrist - not to stop, just anchor.
Your eyes blush, the sudden realization that this monstrosity was meant to fit in made you calculate and conclude it might just be impossible.
Before you protest, König kisses you again - slow, steady, grounding. He doesn't let go, the weight of his presence shaking your overthinking into dust.
You don't swoon, you're too conscious, but you have to.
Your caught wrist moves lowers, the fingers of that hand finding his tip.
It is wet. Just like you.
König pauses for the briefest flicker, his restraint nearly cracking. Then he deepens the kiss, his hand guiding your touch and allowing you to explore him fully.
Your thoughts halt intermittently, focusing on how you feel, only the sudden heat making you need to surface for air.
König trails his free hand over your sides, the touch feeling too delicate, like a warning you can't process.
So he starts - neck, spine, hips, thighs, and now he's found your clit. Circles rotate, sometimes he flicks his rough forefinger in a way that makes you bite his lip.
You know this feeling, yet it feels foreign. The thickness of his finger catches more surface, the harshness makes the grip tighter, and what you knew to be slippery and tiring is now making your thighs twitch in mere seconds.
Or maybe it's the way he kisses you that catches you off. You can't know. You won't know.
His middle finger flexes, the length is just enough to find the opening. He doesn't push, just lets you feel the heaviness of what's coming next.
Anticipation nearly clogs your thoughts, but luckily - or not - he pushes it in, the suddeness making you forget your patterns and glaring at him in that dazed stubborness.
Your mouth parts, the strokes inside muting you and all of your reactions. It is his to control, his to claim, and ultimately enjoy.
And you wouldn't have guessed that he does had he not kissed harder, the collide bruising your lips to a rosy shade of pink.
Grunts fill the air. Your vocals create a sequence of sounds that hypnotize your senses. The quietness of the room makes you realize how you two are alone. Escape is unattainable.
One finger becomes two, the pace of the strokes never changing.
König has you pinned. Your thighs tremble as you take what he gives, the kneeled position over his lap becoming less than ideal as time passes.
His other hand grips your thighs to steady you. Laughable, really. It only forces you to stay still, meanwhile you start to feel that purgatory of limpness as you try to not falter from pleasure.
It feels good. Too good. It's overwhelmling and yet, not enough.
König takes that condom he always carries. For once, the military discipline of having one around comes in handy.
He unwraps it, slides it on, and in one smooth motion he didn't have to practice, it wraps around his member.
You fogged your calculations and forgot how he was supposed to fit in. So now, standing right on top of it, your entrance ready to lower, you are reminded of everything you've read online, and ultimately your genius remembered to forget them in massive chunks.
König holds your hips to steady you, his forehead presses your temple as his blue iciness melts into a cocktail of unreadable emotions.
"Tell me to stop," he mutters, his Austrian accent coming off rougher than usual.
You hesitate - brief and sudden - then stubbornly decide that it is you who decides, not your stupid under-evolved brain that jumps between want and fear.
You don't need to speak. The way you look at him is enough.
He lets you both breathe, before slowly, steadily, almost protectively lowering you over him.
The transition makes you forget how to breathe. It feels odd, the thickness stretching your walls as it fills every nook and corner.
You hiss a bit, the tension of your muscles needing some time to adjust. And once you've rested enough, analyzed it enough, you finally breathe.
König has his eyes on you at all times. The intensity makes your blood heat up the way you do when you see a predator, except this one stares in lust.
Silence fills the air. And then slowly it gets replaced by the slow, wet sounds of your joined sin.
Your eyebrows furrow, and you bite your lips, everything feeling too much, as too much of everything is being felt.
König does not permit you to wander. His thumb tugs your chin down, his tongue pushing through your lips so you don't escape him.
He keeps the rhythm steady, your heartbeats matching despite his calm composure.
You're held by his arms, reminded over and over again that he is the giant mountain who rises you above the sea as you sink into those blue, unflinching eyes.
4. Aftercare
Once everything is finished, the first thing all of them would do is check if your breathing is stable. If they notice any panic or you being too pliant, they'd feel the protective urge to ground you and make you come back from the high into your normal.
For obvious reasons, this might be unlikely to happen. So the main goal is to simply make sure you're well taken care of.
Think bringing a towel to clean you up, giving you water, even feeding you if neccessary.
All of them would go quiet and use minimal word. Even Soap who is generally chattier, simply because he'd want to make sure you don't feel overwhelmed and actually settle first.
Price might use some grounding words, things like "Breathe, love. You're fine." As he trails a hand over your arm.
Ghost, König and Keegan would simply stay calm and anchor you. They would hold you after taking care of you as a way to finally calm you down. Think simply holding you by the side, not overly cuddly, but their breathing would be focused and controlled deliberately to help you match their own breathing.
Gaz would quietly look after you and possibly massage any sore spots after. He would be slightly cuddlier than the others, but in his intense soldier way as he scans for any threats.
In the end, aftercare is where they allow themselves to show you that everything is fine, and it'll be a way to connect you back to normal intimacy.
Because let's be honest, with men as pragmatic as them, they wouldn't leave you alone. They'd become the anchor you need, through and through.
Masterlist
I had this draft saved for so long. I am not going over it to fix any mistakes so HAVE IT AS IT IS.
I also kept writing these when on different moods, hence why the writing changes often.
Thinking about being double-teamed by Ghost and König. Ghost got you spread over his lap, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in against his throat while you cry from overstimulation as he keeps his cock warm in your pussy, König pounding at your ass.
He cups his hand around the back of König's neck, reminding him to be gentle, your little hole isn't used to being stretched out around a massive cock. He whines, nuzzling at your neck, against Ghost's mask, his frantic movements slowing into a deep grind.
Your belly is so full of cock you can feel your brain melting. Holes stretched and stuffed, pussy drooling, the lube from your ass smeared in fingerprints over your thighs and hips. Every time König bottoms out, his balls kissing Ghost's, you cry a little more, mouth slack.
Ghost cradles König's cheek, smiles at him, then catches at the dog tags he wears- his, yours, and Ghost's, the body-warm metal jingling. "Good boy. Go on, fill up that cute little hole," and König groans and shudders and pumps so much cum into your guts you feel it sloshing, thick and creamy.
Only when he's done does Ghost push you both down, your ass still plugged up with König's cock, and start fucking your pussy with heavy snaps of his hips, as you sob and clench around him, milking König's cock with every squeeze, so cock-drunk that you barely even notice yourself cum, a wash of heat and pleasure that just builds on everything else, pussy and clit throbbing as Ghost uses your hole for himself.
omg what about könig at a bar, looking for a pretty girl to take home and fuck the life out of???
he sips his drink, watching the people in the dimly lit place until his eyes catch on you, so pretty, so confident in your seat, nursing a colorful drink and he wants you in his bed, like right now
so he walks up to you, his sheer size and muscles intimidating people out of his way until he’s close enough to you
and he whistles at you
you turn around with murder in your eyes, your drink forgotten as you see the behemoth standing behind you, the sight of his overconfident smirk and the whistle has you pissed off and you stand up (it doesn’t do much, you barely reach his sternum), turn to him
and slap him on his cheek, hard
he’s stunned, a hand coming up to hold his stinging cheek, his eyes wide as he watches the tiny woman who had the audacity to hit him
“you ever try to catcall me or another woman, or even dare to whistle at someone, i will kick your balls so hard they’ll go back up your body”
and with that you turn around, leave a tip for the waiter and walk out the bar
könig is stuck, still standing behind what was your seat, his hand on his cheek, and a crazed smirk pulling at his lips, his pants suddenly feeling tight
he wants- needs you, he has to know this incredible woman who had the audacity to hit him
when he’s back in his room on base he’s pulling at his cock, his hold tight enough to hurt, its weeping precum and the tip is red, it looks like it wants to explode, and when he does cum it’s so much, his sperm spurring all over his hand, his shaft and his abs, and he’s groaning
