He’s a problem. A walking, talking... paradox of sharp edges and soft hands—except the soft is reserved for her and her alone. To the rest of the world, he’s all business: measured words, steady hands, a gaze that doesn’t waver. But the moment she walks into the room? His composure unravels, just a little. Enough for his fingers to twitch, for his breath to catch, for something unbearably fond to settle behind his eyes.
It’s... pathetic, really. He knows it. She could ask him for the world, and he’d set it at her feet without a second thought. Hell, she could ask him to kneel, and he’d do it. Not because she wants power over him—no, she doesn’t even realize what she does to him—but because she’s her. His undoing. His salvation. The only thing that makes this whole godforsaken life worth it.
He watches her across the room, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way she bites her lip in concentration, completely unaware of the fact that he’s starving for her. It’s not just want. It’s not even need. It’s something deeper, something that’s settled into his bones and taken root in his bloodstream.
She turns, catches him staring. Raises an eyebrow, amused.
“You good?”
Not even close. But he smirks, tugs at the knot of his tie like it’s strangling him. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just thinking.”
Thinking about how he’s never letting her go. About how she could walk him straight off the edge of the world, and he’d follow without hesitation. About how he’s already ruined for anyone else, because she’s it. The only light in his life, the only thing that makes him human.
And God help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Price is a an ass guy. Doesn't matter how thick or thin. You got one he's grabbing it and smacking it every chance he gets. Even at the most inappropriate times like when you're pissed at him. He'll hug you and slide his hands down to cop a feel (usually results in you being more pissed)
Soap loves some thighs. To be buried in between them too. But most of all to just lay on yours after a long hard day. Laying soft kisses on them, sliding a hand up your shorts to grip your thigh and give it a squeeze. He also looks physically pained if you ever insult them.
Gaz will appreciate some good painted feet. Also likes when your press your foot against his crotch and make him cum from just that. Will also paint your toes for you (hes an expert), and give you foot massages. Sometimes like the weirdo he is, he'll have your feet in his lap and his thread his fingers through your toes like you're holding hand.
Ghost is for sure a tit guy. His biggest turn on is to worship your breasts. Massaging them, sucking them, biting hickeys onto them. Gets him absolutely rock hard. Randomly he likes to squeeze them. "For stress" he says.
Keegan is a stomach guy. Loves to run his hand along the expanse of it. Hold onto the sides of your waist while he fucks you. Lay his head there for the nap of his life. Double points if you have a naval piercing, he just gets so turned on with the way it looks. Especially if you bulge a bit when his cock is in you.
Konig likes your neck. Likes the way it fits so good in his palm when he hold it. Likes the way it looks when he decorates it with hickeys and bite marks. When it contracts around his cock. He could go on about how much he loves your beautiful neck.
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.
cw: 18+ mdni, (kinda angsty but) comfort and smut, icky!daddy k!nk, pet names (kid, kiddo, babydoll)
It was a shit shift, so shit that you sat in your car for 30 minutes. Didn’t turn on the car, didn’t play any music, didn’t even doom scroll, you just locked the door and closed your eyes. Absorbing the silence because you needed it, almost cried from how badly you needed it.
And then you made it back home after a silent drive, gripping the wheel, exhausted and trying your best not to get in a car accident.
You know Keegan is a night owl, down to the way his work hours are set up, he goes in late, comes in early morning. He’s on leave after a 3 month deployment, but his usual schedule is the same. So why did he wake up at 4pm to music blaring from the speakers downstairs?
“The hell are you doing?” Keegan asks through tired eyes, scratching his bare stomach. But he’s doesn’t see you move, not even turning to look at him, your hands are flat on the kitchen counter as you lean on it, trying to feel the heavy loud bass of Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden from the speaker, just something to give you a pulse, that having that job is worth it in the grand scheme of things— anything.
“Kid.” He calls out to you, voice louder than the music, eyes now trained on you. If anyone were to tell if something was wrong with you, I’d be him. Knows you like the back of his hand, knows you can go and go without stopping and that it drains the life out of you. You turn to face him, trying to mask all the annoyance, the tiredness inside you. “Hey, Kee- just- I just-“
“—Don’t gimmie bullshit baby, you knew that’s not what I wanna hear.” He chides. But he’s doesn’t knows you won’t say anymore. Pretty girls been through the wringer, and theres the rule you made, to drop everything at that work shit at the door. But there are exceptions, like this. When all of it has to be pulled out.
“You wanna feel somethin, hm?” He steps closer, boxing you into the kitchen counter as he towers over you. “This,” he nods towards the speaker, bringing his face low enough that he’s in your ear, “it won’t cut it, never does. You just need Dad to make it allll better don’t you?”
You feel your eyes well up, giving him a trembling nod, good. Least you’re willing to let him take care of you this time. “ ‘S okay babydoll, I got you. Always do.”
It’s a resurrection in a way.
Having this big tattooed man, stretch you out on his fingers, legs wide as you sat on the counter, till he’s working his fat hardened shaft past your folds and into your fluttering hole. Giving you slow and calculated thrusts till his red hot tip is puckered up against your sticky sweet spots.
It has your mouth open, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as you let out a moan of ecstasy. Keegan is deep, his girth so beautifully stuffing you to the brim, you have to claw at his forearms. “Fu- so much- mm- so biiig, ‘s big Dad!”
“Is that right?” He coos, sickeningly sweet, snapping his hips into yours once, mean, has you salivating at how good it feels, he takes your hand, making you cup his face, “need your eyes on me kiddo, focus.”
Your glossy eyes flutter open, mewling as you meet his gaze, so handsome with his chiseled face, veins popping out his neck, “You gorgeous fuckin thing, shit,” he shudders, eyes flickering down to the little bulge in your stomach, the slick coating the base of his cock, then back to you, “Thaaat’s my girl, take me so well don’t you?”
You stupidly nod, moaning again as he thrusts inside you. His grip on your thighs tight while he pounds into you, the loud, squealing of his dick filling you bouncing off the kitchen walls with every probe of his cock in your sultry walls.
You can’t even think straight he way he’s fucking you, like Itll be the last time, vibrations you two making louder than the music you could almost feel it your finger tips.
“Come on babygirl,” Keegan let’s out a huff, guiding your hands to his beefy shoulders, “Said you needed to feel right? Hck- Touch your Dad all over, remind yourself who loves you.”
And you do, Hange touching the few moles at hi shoulder blades, down the few tattoos covering a few scars, the way his abs tighten as he slams into you over and over to his dark happy trial— shit, you clamp down on him, tears spilling out of your eyes, you whimper, “Kee!”
Keegan nods as he looks down into your mesmerized eyes, leaning down so his some of his weight is on you, tip smacking against your g-spot, groaning at your walls molding around him, “Yeaaah that’s all me mama, fuck— Daddy’s right here for you. My precious babydoll.”
The mans got your screaming, toes curling as you let out a plethora of ‘dad, dad, dad.’
Keegan spills inside you, holding you tight as the warms floods your walls. He kisses your forehead, “Fuck, good job kid.”
And just like that, you have a pulse again.
a/n: Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden was the inspo (obviously). Shit end and Not down right dirty dad(dy) kïnk but I think this is sweet.
cw: slightly toxic dynamic, shameless smut, pussy pronouns (not personified pussy, thank you tojisteddy for teaching me that), possessive sex, implied age gap (reader mid-20s, Keegan mid-40s), sorta public sex, mirror sex, dumbification
Dilf!Keegan who's a munch. That man will not come away from that sweet little pussy of yours; he'll eat you until you're crying, until you're squirming and trying to push him away because you're just so sensitive. And he'll coo at you, pulling away, mouth covered in you, "Aw, I know, princess, Too much for you, isn't it?" His sympathy is all a fad because he'll grin and say, "I'm not fuckin' done eating," before dipping his head back between yours thighs and lapping at your clit like a thirsty mutt.
Dilf!Keegan who still makes a point to make sure you know that your pussy isn't yours. No, he'll reiterate it until he's blue in the face: she's mine; I'm the one who has her gushin', I'm the only one who knows how to please her. Not you and definitely no other man, you hear that, baby? And when you nod in response, too fucked out to give him a proper answer, he'll bark out a laugh, "That's fuckin' right, princess."
Dilf!Keegan who has no issue threatening other men. He sees someone talking to you when you're out for dinner?
He'll be running before he even has the opportunity to ask you a question. A waiter being too nice to you in the restaurant? He's got a hand on your wrist and is pulling you to the nearest bathroom and fucking you there and then. He'll have you in front of the mirror, salt-and pepper fringe hanging in his face as he thrusts into your cunt, hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to look at yourself. "He couldn't make your little cunt cream round his cock, could he? No, he fuckin' couldn't; she needs me. My cock. No one else's. Fuuuuccckkk, that it's it, baby girl, cream all my thick fuckin' cock, fuck, you messy fuckin' girl"
And when you limp out of the bathroom afterwards, he grins to himself when the waiter can't even look you in the eye.
the pads of his fingers traced delicate patterns on your side, hands gently feeling the smooth skin. you leaned into his embrace and moved one of your hands to tangle in his hair, your fingers beginning to massage his scalp. he hummed quietly and leaned into your touch while his eyes fluttered shut
"feels good," he murmured, gently squeezing your side with his fingers. your gaze slid over his content expression, and you moved down to press a sweet, lasting kiss to his forehead. his soft hum of satisfaction urged you to continue. you moved your slow, tender kisses from his forehead to his nose, his cheeks, his chin, making sure to kiss and caress his entire face, until you pressed a final, lingering kiss to his lips before gently pulling away
once he noticed that your lips lost contact, his eyes lazily opened and met yours, and your breath caught in your throat at how he looked at you. "come back," he mumbled softly, moving one of his hands from your waist to cup your jaw in the process. he brought your face closer to his and ran his thumb along your cheek. you sighed and looked back at him, a subtle smile on your lips before you let him do it
he positioned himself above you and soon had you pinned beneath him on the bed, legs spread as he leaned in, crushing his mouth against yours. his body pressed against yours, still holding your jaw as he kissed you. his crotch met your thigh, moving slowly against it. you let out a soft moan as he moved his hips forward against your cunt, eyes shut when he slipped his tongue to tangle with yours. he moved slowly, feeling himself grow hard
he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he leaned in toward your neck, nuzzling his head against you. his teeth grazed the skin, still grinding into you with pressure, the outline of his cock straining against his pants. he sucked on your skin, a quiet whine escaping your lips. you felt him increase the pressure of his movements, his bulge shifting just right against you. you pulled him in, legs wrapping around his hips, making him press even closer
summary: just things you'll hear (and won't hear) while dating keegan
warnings: sexual content
a/n: i love me a quiet military man
dating keegan p. russ means knowing he's not a man of many words, lots of "mhmm"s and "oh, yeah?"s during conversations. he holds bold, silent eye contact as you talk out of your ass for hours, the light blue color in his eyes literally staring into your soul. he cocks his head to the side a bit when you start stammering under his gaze, and he smirks while leaning forward in his seat. your eyes distractedly widen at the way he crosses his large arms over the table, straining against the tight fabric of his shirt. "keep talking, baby, i'm listening..." he murmurs, but you don't ever doubt that.
dating keegan p. russ means getting sparse calls from him when he's away on deployment. "kee, is that you?" you whisper hopefully. "yeah, kid, it's me," comes his grainy reply. your shoulders tense at how tired he sounds. you don't realize you've fallen silent until he says, "c'mon, talk to me..." and you giggle a bit, causing him to smile on the other side of the phone. "i miss you," you tell him in that sweet tone he likes to hear. "mm, i know," he says gently. "tell me what you're wearing." you roll your eyes, teasing, "nothing" but he can hear the lie in your laughter. "yeah, yeah, stay out of trouble...just a little while longer," he tells you, and then he pauses. his voice sounds an octave lower when he whispers, "i love you, you know that?" you nod even though he can't see it. "i know, kee." he shakes his head. "gotta hear you say it back..." so you take a deep breath and smile as if he's right in front of you. "i love you, keegan."
dating keegan p. russ means having his noises all to yourself. he's not very vocal in group or social settings, but he's loud and shameless in your ear during sex, his sweaty body sliding against yours with dirty words you couldn't imagine him saying if you didn't know him any better. "ohh, fuck, just like that, yeah..." he groans, grabbing your hips to move them over his cock. you moan and clench around him, bouncing harder at the rough hand that slaps your ass before soothing over the reddened skin. "fuck," he grunts again, followed by a surge of heavy pants you feel in the crook of your neck. "oh, god, i'm gonna cum..." he rasps, his hands holding your waist with a bruising pressure as you squirm to the way his hips thrust up into you, rough and only sloppy when he's this close. "gonna cum in this tight, pretty pussy," he mutters, lifting his head to press your foreheads together, your lips parted and resting against each other, sharing the same breathy moans. "yeah..." he whispers to you, "that's it..." you gasp when his release spreads through your thighs like a bullet, and he kisses you to muffle his low, throaty groan, falling back on the bed with your writhing body covering his.
dating keegan p. russ means the only time he talks more than you is when you're going down on him. he fucks your smart mouth every time your attitude resurfaces, fisting your hair to push your head down on his cock, his vision dotting with stars as you clench and gag around him. his hips thrust into your mouth, and you feel him hit the back of the throat through a deep groan. "tired of you talkin' back to me," he scorns, "look at you, drooling around my cock—can't even take it, huh, kid?" he tilts his head down at you with mocking sympathy, his thrusts getting more relentless as you desperately try to keep up, licking your tongue along his length before swirling the bud. he throws his head back a bit at the sensitivity, baring the tight column of his throat to your hungry gaze. "fuck, there we go..." he breathes, his hand smoothing down your head, "thereeee we go...uh-huh...fuck..."
dating keegan p. russ means trying to act normal when you're out together, and his already low social battery has depleted, replaced by an impatience to get home and get you out of your skimpy little outfit. he's slick as he reaches under your skirt to squeeze your ass, playing with the thin string of your thong. you jolt, and he pulls you into his chest, leaning down to whisper, "better say your goodbyes early, yeah?" you whimper under your breath, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your ass forward, to the warm, wet heat between your thighs. "keegan..." you mutter cautiously, but he's silent, his stare loud and clear with what he wants.
dating keegan p. russ means craving to know what's going on inside that damn head of his. he keeps a lot of his thoughts to himself, and you see them weighing behind his gaze during your most intimate moments, lying together in bed with your hand caressing through his hair. he spaces out while you stare at him tenderly, whispering, "you okay?" his eyes flick toward you before they cast away again. he exhales deeply and wraps his arms around you, breathing you in as he presses his whole weight on you like a blanket. "yeah, baby, i'm okay." he kisses your temple and buries his face in your chest. "you know you can tell me anything, right?" you tell him quietly, lightly scratching the back of his head. he nods, because he does know that, but he often chooses not to. in the line of his work, he prefers to hide the ugliest truths, the horrors he doesn't want to stain your innocence with. he sees you trying to get through his walls, and you hear him breathe you in softly, inhaling the safest part of his life like you're his air.
being a little slow with reqs srry about that (not proofread i fell asleep 3x while writing this)
ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з
Watching COD Men workout :3 (and getting caught-)
:‹ Price...
He didn't think anything of it when he casually announced to you he would be working out, he was already walking towards the bedroom to change as he left you on the couch scrolling on your phone, except you IMMEDIATELY stopped scrolling and raised an eyebrow but his back was already to you, walking away
You sat up, putting your phone down you waited and listened for when he would walk out of the bedroom, you observed him walk past with lighter clothes and a towel
You followed him as he made his way to the little workout area he had set up in your home (according to him this was better than going to the gym), and watched as he started working out
Despite the jokes others often threw at him, he was pretty fit, you practically drooled as you watched him lift, and THANK GOD he wore shorts today because when he started visibly sweating???
Not to mention the sounds of his grunts made you fumble in your pocket for your phone, your fingers tried opening the camera app but it was difficult when your eyes were focused on him
You took your eyes off of him for ONE second as you looked down at your phone, and when you aimed it up to take a video you jumped back, flinching when you noticed his chest was taking up all of your camera's view
He had walked up to you while you were busy making sure the angle was just right to capture all of him, you barely registered when he asked why you wouldn't just join him
:‹ Simon...
Bruh he KNOWS you ain't got a single athletic bone in your body so why are you at the gym every time he so happens to be there?!? You certainly didn't go some digging around and ask the only other person he interacts with.. not like you'd ever do that, that's crazy haha
What's sad is that this man covers up more than a Victorian era lady, even when working there's no chance you'll see him wearing tight tank tops or shorts, he's somehow able to keep this up even during the summer, man and you were so looking forward to seeing him show some skin :(
^Although adding to that, you go feral when you so much as get to see his veiny hands when he takes off his gloves and readjusts them, Simon hears growling and he wonders if Riley got loose but no that's just you
No one else says anything when they walk past you and you're watching Simon like a hawk watches its meal, and man you wished you could take a bite out of those thighs-
:‹ Johnny...
He would assume you're just trying to take pics for inspiration or something, just like how it's totally normal for him to have pics of another dude he really admires because it's something called "motivation"
And sure it might be a little weird when he's taking a break, is taking a sip of his water but accidentally spills some on his shirt making it cling to his chest and you without waiting a single second pull out your phone
Also, he hears the camera shutter go off like every three minutes to the point that it unnerves him, but when he turns around you pretend you're taking a selfie (you DEFNITELY weren't zooming in on him..)
At some point he comes up behind you, takes your phone out of your hands and no matter how hard you try punching him there's just no way you're getting your phone back...
:‹ Kyle...
One day when he's about to leave for the gym he's surprised to see you wanting to tag along, he agrees and opens the door for you to get into the car, he's glad you want to come along with him and maybe start a routine yourself
But you know the REAL reason why you're going to that gym, you're so ready to get some closeups of him in his workout clothes all sweaty and grunting you're already drooling just thinking about it, Kyle looks over thinking you're hungry poor thing, and you are.. but not for food mwehheh
Once there you pretend to find something to do but make sure you find a good spot to watch him from, you practically steal the spot from some gym bro who was doing his warmup
You know it's prime time when Kyle gets on that treadmill and you get a nice view from behind, he has his headphones on so you don't think he would notice if you stared a little, right?
Wrong he saw you ogling from the mirror and you shamelessly grinned at him and took off
:‹ Roach...
You giggled maliciously to yourself as you saved yet another picture of Roach working out that a fellow soldier had taken and sent to you
Poor Roach didn't know why his buddies would ALWAYS take a mandatory photo every time they worked out, something about "keeping track of the progress" but those photos are really just getting sent to one person who demands to have a new photo every day (you)
You have an entire album dedicated to him working out, it’s not common so you consider these pictures rare and therefore cannot be seen by anyone else
That is until Roach himself accidentally comes across them when you’re admiring them when you think no one is around, but you make the mistake of letting your guard down and falling asleep with your phone unlocked
Roach was the unfortunate victim to walk by and catch a glimpse of your phone screen, backing up and taking a closer look…
:‹ Alejandro...
You love looking at his arms, you do it every chance you get, and what better chance to stare at him than when he's working out? You're a mosquito the way you're attracted to the veins on his arms and hands when he's doing exercise or hard work
Is it wrong to want to watch those beefy muscles at work?! You love it when he goes to blow off some steam and he's just absolutely beating the shit out of that punching bag, you wish you were that punching ba- WOAH. Something about having him stir up your insides-
That lovesick, dumb look on you scares people a little, especially because you're sat there for however long Alejandro decides to workout that day, which can be long or short depending on how he's feeling
He finds out because whenever he checks ur socials you somehow always have the latest pic of him working out alongside some freak caption that can only be the result of a person down BAD
:‹ Rodolfo...
Oh you just KNOW how strong his back muscles are it drives you insane to think how lucky the other soldiers at base are when they most likely see those muscles at work a lot more often than you do
It's silly really, you could just ask him to take his shirt off and he'd listen to anything you ask of him, but there's something sweeter in watching him workout, unaware that you're there watching
You're supposed to be running a few laps yourself but you can't help but become distracted by how tight his shirt has gotten now that it's clung to his skin due to the sweat rolling off of him, you trip over yourself but you don't even feel the pain as your head is still turned his way
He's noticed, seen your nosebleed and runs over, all worried as he holds a tissue to your face, but you barely answers his worried questions as you're just stare shamelessly at his chest, he takes your silence as a sign of you being disoriented and pulls you up so quick you're barely processing it except for the fact that his arms are around you and pulling you into his side
and yes you have a stupid grin plastered on your face so you look insane lol
:‹ Phillip...
You're pissed the Shadows tattled on you and told their boss about you watching him workout, can't a girl/guy have hobbies?!?
But if you're telling me he wouldn't like that? You're lying. He's prob set you up a front row seat, tease you about how your little camera won't do him justice, observe with your eyes and see it up close, yeah?
Catching you staring, eyes absolutely stuck to him, mind mush by the time he's done taken his shirt off because of how "intense" that workout was, all your reactions feed into his ego that's already big enough as is
It starts getting a little weird for him when you ask how his workout was and then mentioned a really specific set of workouts he did just that day, like how do you know exactly how many times he did squats?
:‹ Makarov...
How amusing.. he may have thought you simply were in awe of how strong he was, you've seen his scars and admire him, right? Wrong, your honor they are all freaks and only wish to see that layer of sweat form over his skin as he works those muscles and limbs
This is the only moment you see him uncover himself and you can admire the markings on his skin, you don't know it but he's being generous letting you observe, anyone else wouldn't have this chance
You're barely thinking, not like you ever do when around him, just snapping picture after picture and smiling until he one day demands for your phone, he can't risk you leaking something, he has enemies everywhere after all, no?
But he allows you keep watching because.. idk why maybe he likes it or sum idk
:‹ Keegan...
You think he doesn't notice you staring but he does, that man can notice anything around him within a certain radius, so you aren't exactly slick when you ask him to help you pick up some boxes and carry them, he knows you're plenty capable of doing it yourself
Why you want him to do it is beyond him tbh, but you don't miss the opportunity to stare as he bends over to pick the boxes up and pressing up to two or three against his chest as he carries them over
He doesn't know how or why but you've somehow have been able to figure out his exact workout schedule, he has a routine when it comes to this stuff.. usually it's at night that he prefers because the place is empty and somehow he can always see you obscured in the shadows observing him
He's caught you stealing his spare shirt he keeps in his bag once he's changed, he had to wrestle that thing away from you because who would actually wants a sweaty and used shirt? You apparently
You're not being subtle either whenever you bring up how he'd "benefit" from getting tighter workout clothes to allow him to move freely
:‹ König...
For fun you'd join König and "help" him workout.. how? Well he's a big guy so sometimes for a challenge you'll sit on his back while he does pushups or something, but he's confused as to why you always without fail insist to set up your phone to record the workouts
You even buy one of those clip on mics so you can get the sound of his labored breaths, he questions it silently but never outright asks you, you'll listen to it later with headphones to capture EVERYTHING, you might even download it and listen to it like on a cd or have it saved on your phone, you play it every night religiously and it has you sleeping like a baby by the time the recording is over
You wish you could see him workout in a compression shirt or perhaps be lucky and see him without a shirt but that's a bit of a stretch, and what's worse is that he doesn't seem to know what he does to you!
:‹ Horangi...
You lament the fact that you don’t get to see those muscles as often as you’d like to, so you take to watching him whenever he works out, the tiger for once isn't doing the stalking and is instead being watched
While working out, he's wearing one of those tank tops he so much loves, he gets hot a lot for no apparent reason, and all of his previous shirts were so musty you went out a bought him new ones, except he complained about how most of them were long sleeved so you ended up cutting the sleeves right off and making a mental note to only purchase tank tops next time
You just seen him lifting and you're a mess, a puddle on the floor if you will, and it takes everything in you to not let out demonic screeching when he flexes his biceps, checking in the mirror
Except he jump scares you when you notice he's been looking at you through the mirror
:‹ Nikto...
you must've been knocked out and lost half of your good braincells if you're asking NIKTO to work out with you, not that he won't but most people wouldn't ask the guy who delivers straight up insane lines while aiming at targets, you know?
"you say you're okay?" he asks confused as he has you in a headlock, this.. isn't even a workout anymore it's just sparring which wasn't what he originally had in mind but whatever
your cheeks are squished, his sweat is transferring onto your skin and you can smell his sweat but you wouldn't trade places with anyone else right now, in fact this is where you'd like to stay for a while so you try and stall, you freak
later when he's doing squats you position yourself a little behind him and pretend you're doing pushups but you've become distracted and are now instead just lying on the floor, your head propped up on both your hands as your feet swing in the air behind you, that perverted smile on your face
it slightly unnerves Nikto when he catches you staring in the mirror but doesn't say anything, from now on he just declines to you whenever you ask to workout with him
