#alex keller cod

[lovifie]

For my dear @lyralein (@support un-naughty my girl, you coward!!) and her mastermind of a mind, that came with the (correct) thought that Mr. Alex Keller would be a big shot at French porn.

And et voilà! ✨The porn✨ (and when I say porn, I meant it. There is no plot.)

Masterlist

Working for the CIA has granted Alex the opportunity to visit a multitude of countries, to meet unbelievable people and to push his limits on uncountable occasions.

In a couple too many times he has been at the verge of death, buildings collapsing, missiles flying a tad too close for his liking, friends turned enemies in the blink of an eye… But after all, that's what he signed up for.

Plus, sometimes, it also had some advantages.

Like meeting you.

And hearing your voice so sweetly call for him. “Monsieur, Keller!”

He whips his head around towards the sound of your voice like a dog well trained, turning to look at you standing on the porch of the little palace you lived in.

He drinks you in, standing barefoot on the first step of the short stair, pretty white summer dress accentuating every curve of your body and moving along the jiggle of your body as you effusively waved your hand at him.

He takes advantage of the distance, enough for you to not be able to tell the ungentlemanly places he rests his eyes at. The top of the dress, pulled to the center in a bow and pushing your boobs together calling him in like a siren's song.

He doesn't peel his eyes away from you, unable to do so; walking up to where you stand smiling like an angel upon him.

You shouldn't be calling him. The daughter of the owner of the wine yard shouldn't be talking to the lowest class of the employees. Alex's body is covered on a thin layer of sweat from working outside under the sun, hands grimey with dirt and clothes less than appropriate to be talking to you.

Still, when Alex slightly kicks the stairs to remove the loose dirt from his boots to not bring it inside, you are quick to jump at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him under the shade.

“You shouldn't be working at this time! It's too hot!” You reprimand him, the french accent obvious on your tone making him smile.

“Désolé, mademoiselle…” He attempts to excuse himself, cutting himself short when he sees the offended expression on your face at his french.

“Where did you say you are from again, monsieur Keller?” You ask, trying to switch the language to English again.

Alex looks at you, trying to remember what his last lie was so he can match it. “Quebec.”

You nod, raising your eyebrows at the doubt he is actually from Quebec but choosing to indulge him on his lie. You point to the washbowl on the table, a kind smile still on your face as you order him. “Wash your hands and face, I'll get us something to drink.”

And with that you disappear into the house, letting him the full view of your behind as you walk away. He turns again towards the bowl, using the fresh water to wash off the dirt from his face and hands, cleaning under his nails to make sure not a crumb of dirt has the chance to pollute you.

The door creaks when you open it again, a small tray on your hand that you quickly set on the table beside him. An unnecessary intricate jar full of iced lemon water with two just-as-intricate glasses beside it. But the first thing you grab is the small towel with your family initials embroidered in it.

He picks it up, patting his face and hands dry and checking he did a good job at cleaning himself before handing it back. You drop it on the table, slightly bending forward to pour the water on the glasses, and Alex's eyes are glued to the curve of your ass.

The heat of the summer hits you too, no matter how much of a local you are and he can tell by your clothing choices. The dress you are wearing is so dainty the beauty marks of your skin are visible through the fabric, as well as your lack of underwear.

It causes Alex to swallow a groan at his reaction over such a small detail when he feels his dick stir on his pants at the thought of pulling your dress up. His hand moves on its own, creeping closer and closer towards the flimsy material keeping the touch of your skin from him.

You turn around, filled glass in hand, jumping when you feel his hand rest on the curve of your hip but still, you look at him with the warmest smile on your face. You look down to where his hand is placed, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So pretty…” He mumbles, grabbing the glass on your hand without moving his other hand.

“The dress?” You ask, warmth rising to your cheeks at his touch while you try not to break the contact with his blue eyes.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows for a second confused before softening his expression. “...yeah, pretty dress.”

He is the one to break eye contact, dragging his eyes over your body, down to the hem of your dress. He bends forwards, glass still on his hand as the other moves to rest right where the dress ends.

Teasingly, he walks his middle and pointer fingers up your thigh, flicking the skirt up with each step and exposing more bare skin of the leg, while you watch on with bated breath.

He looks at your face again, so he doesn't miss your expression when he finally lets the palm of his hand rest on the softness of your thigh; dangerously close to your core.

“Monsieur Ke- Monsieur Keller!” You call him, trying to sound scandalized when he starts to close his hand, the fat of your inner thigh being squeezed.

But no matter how appalled you try to look, leaning back against the table; Alex notices how you slightly pull your thighs together, pushing his hand towards the middle in the process.

He turns his wrist in one swift motion, with the palm of his hand resting on your cunt. Making you jump to wrap your hand around his wrist, keeping his hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together.

His index finger moves between your folds making you whine as you close your eyes, your hold on his wrist losing strength. It doesn't take long for him to feel wetness dribble over his digit. The feeling making you unclench your legs, allowing him more space between them.

The arousal slowly dripping from your core allows him to slide more easily his finger along your folds, making it easy for him to probe at your entrance, making you close your eyes as little moans and whimpers start to fall from your lips.

Such delicious sounds making him thirsty, but not for the glass of water on his hand. He tries to set it down on the table, but unable to peel his eyes from your pleasured expression he knocks it down making the water run over the surface of the table.

It snaps you out of it, finally pushing his hand away and you stand, turning around to pick up the glass. “I- I better clean it up.” You hurriedly say as you place the glass back on the tray as well as everything else on the table.

He tries to call your name when you turn, but his words die on the back of his throat when he sees the wet fabric of your dress stuck to your plush ass. And it is enough to have him walk behind you, following you inside the house and into the kitchen just a couple of steps behind you.

“You were right, I shouldn't have been working…” He says, making you turn once more with a surprised expression on your face. “I think I might be overheating, mademoiselle...”

You look up to him as he walks closer to you, unable to say anything, intoxicating on his proximity. And when his hands finally wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest and his lips crash against your, the only thing you can do is kiss him back.

He moves his hands up, cupping your face as he hums at the satisfaction of finally feeling your lips against his. Then takes one more step forwards, keeping you trapped between the countertop and his body.

You can feel his groin pressed against your abdomen, feeling it grow and harden with each swim of his hips against your body. The need to feel his skin under your touch making you pull his shirt out of his trouser so you can bury your hand under, your nails dragging over the firm muscle of his waist.

His lips pull apart from yours to kiss his way down your neck, sucking your taste in and letting his tongue roam flat against your skin, feeling your pulse rise up at his actions.

One of your hands moves to the back of his head, tangling your fingers with his hair as you push his face into your neck. “Alex…” You softly moan when his tongue presses on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He shushes you, smile appearing on his face. “Now, now, sunshine… Where did Monsieur Keller go?” He asks, pulling back, standing to his whole height as he lets his hands rest on the counter behind you, caging you in. “Let's not lose our manners, alright?”

You nod, mimicking his movements when he does; you mind already getting driven by your body and not your brain. You follow his gaze when he looks down and see his hands pulling your dress up again. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs trembling with anticipation and he knows that if he pulled them apart they would be glossy with your arousal sliding down.

He chuckles when he sees you look so bashful, averting his eyes but still unable to look away from him, needing to see what his next move will be.

To your dissatisfaction, he lets the dress down; which makes you look at him with questioning doe eyes when he steps back. You are about to question the reason for his change of heart when you see him pull the chair from the kitchen table.

He turns it, sliding it until it's right in front of you. You look from the chair to his face, questioning his plan; and instead of answering your unspoken question he simply sits down, pushing it even more forward. He pulls your dress up again, stuffing the hem of the dress into your cleavage as if it was a napkin to keep it away from his meal.

He pushes down on your chest with the same movement making you lean back on the counter, propped up on your elbows and with a seamless movement, he slides his hands behind your knees and effortlessly moves then to rest over his shoulders.

The surprise of the movement combined with the way he presses his tongue flat against your folds takes every ounce of strength away from your body making you lay flat on your back.

He groans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, his fingertips sinking into the fat of your thighs around his head when he dives in again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, catching at your clit with a flick.

It makes your thigh tremble, threatening to close; which only encourages him further. Repeating the motion, feeling them flex on each side of his head; his hearing getting muffled with each stripe he licks.

But no matter how tightly you suffocate his skull between them, he can still hear loud and clear the moans and whines dripping from your lips.

He finally opens his eyes, not even aware that he had closed them as soon as he got a taste, letting the rest of his senses enjoy your body. But once he opens his eyes, he can't close them back.

From between your legs, the first thing he sees is your abdomen flexing at the feeling of his mouth lapping at your clit, your back arching at the attack of his tongue. The dress that he so carelessly stuffed on itself, sliding out of your cleavage with your movements. He wishes he could undo the bow keeping your boobs from his prying eyes, but not yet, not when he can prolong it and savor every minute for longer.

The only thing he doesn't love it's that he can't see your face, your head falling back; only letting him see your chin. He wishes he could see your face, see the product of his work in the shape of a pleasured expression just the way he's listening. But he'll see it later, when he's buried deep into you.

For now, he buries his tongue as deep as he cans into your cunt, feeling your inner walls clamp down on it when his nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he shakes his head. It makes you spread your legs, urging him deeper with a hand on his head. You manage to prop yourself on your free elbow, looking down at him. With your fingers tangled on his brunette hair and his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh to keep you close.

His pupils are blown, two black voids looking at you when you finally manage to make eye contact with him for a fraction of a second; before it is the last drop throwing you over the edge.

Your legs closing against his head again, unable to muffle the moan of his name as you come down from your high. His head is pressed so tightly against your cunt he can't even breath, but he would so gladly die there.

The moment your legs free his head he pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling your smell in the way. He kisses the inner side of your tight leaving a wet spot and then stands again, standing between your legs licking his lips like an animal after eating.

The sight of your body, sprawled and fucked under him, get his dick impossibly harder. Then you raise your hand, using your thumb to collect the juices left on his mustache and before you can pull your hand back to lick it yourself, he grabs your wrist keeping it close and sucks your finger into his mouth. His scorching hot tongue cleaning the juices from your hand without breaking eye contact, it makes you whimper softly; cupping his face with your thumb still inside his mouth and you pull him closer.

“Monsieur Keller…” You whine, calling him like a moth to a light. “Please…”

“I know, love, I know.” He says once he pulls your finger out and he kisses you softly, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hands find their way around your waist pulling you closer and you circle his hips with his legs.

He picks you up, just for a second before sitting back down on the chair with you on his lap. Your hands rest on his shoulders, being you the one to kiss him this time. He can feel you grind your hips against him, the softest whine falling from your lips at the feel of the rough material of his jeans against your sensible cunt.

He moves his hand down, undoing his belt so he can pull his length free. You wish you could see it, but the dress serves as a tent when it slaps against his abdomen. The little wet spot of his seed turning translucent the fabric so you can see the red tip underneath, angry with the lack of attention.

You raise your hips, letting him slap his length against your folds; your arousal getting it slicked and desperate for the feeling of your warm walls engulfing him like a vice.

But he's not the only one desperate for it, and the moment his tip catches on your entrance you pull down in a swift motion taking all of him in, moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling. His hands rests on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Stay there for me, sweetheart.” He moans, head falling back over the backrest of the chair. “Just keep it in for me, fuck…”

His hips move in the smallest thrust, the movement would pass unnoticed if it wasn't for how deep it reaches inside of you. He finally pulls his head back up, coming face to face with your chest. And no matter how pretty the dress is or how good it looks on you, it's the only thing keeping him from seeing you and it's time it goes away.

His hands grab each side of the bow, easily getting it undone and groaning when your boobs finally spill over. He hugs your middle, burying his face between your breasts taking your aroma in before he starts to lap at them.

Licking, sucking and biting every centimeter, his hips immobile making you whine pathetically at the delicious torture of both his attention and the lack of it.

You whine his name again, needing more than just his mouth on your chest. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Just let me taste you some more…” He tries to say, words dying down on his throat when you begin to move your hips.

“T-tu… tu es… trés…” He tries to say again, so enamored with the feel of your tight cunt around his cock it makes him switch languages.

He doesn't get to finish his attempt before you push your hand over his mouth, pushing his head back. “Enough with the shitty French, Monsieur Keller…” You moan, the feeling of his length hitting every sweet spot inside of you getting ruined by his continuous butchering of your language.

He apologised against your hand, doing it again when you beg him to fuck you, your thighs getting tired of the cramped position. He pulls your dress up, pulling it off your body, finally having you completely exposed to him. His hands roam your body, getting distracted from his original plan.

Only remembering when you whine his name again, picking you up to lay you down on the kitchen table like the most precious and delicate piece of art. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes.

He spreads your legs, laying his dick flat against your folds, sliding it in between making the two of you moan softly. It finally gives you the chance to catch a glimpse of his length.

The droplet of precum slowly falls over your mount of venus when he glides forwards, allowing you to see the glistering layer of your arousal mixing with his.

He moves you to lay on your side, moving your leg up, your knee almost touching your shoulder when you prop yourself up on your elbow. And at the same time he buries himself to the hilt, the double stretch making your mouth fall open as you look at him, a deaf moan waiting to be spilled.

“Big stretch, sweetheart “ He grunts as he sets himself inside of you, bending down to kiss your open mouth. He might have already been inside of you when you were both sitting down, but the new position has you feeling it all again as if he didn't.

The moan finally comes to life when his hand meets his shaft, collecting the fluids flooding for your cunt to wet his thumb and rubbing soft circles around your clit. You moan his name, your hand grabbing his shirt to ground yourself.

“Fucking hell, sunshine… Taking me so fucking good…” He moans, hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “Fuck… This cunt was fucking made to take me, love. Fucking perfect, you are. My fucking perfect sunshine.”

His thrusts start to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin getting louder and louder; only overshadowed by the song of moans falling from one mouth to the other.

He is still almost completely dressed, his pants still over the curve of his ass. So slowly sliding down with each snap of his hips, the belt clinking with each movement. It works as proof of his desperation to be inside, no matter how uncomfortable the clothes are, it is not worth it wasting time on taking it off.

Not when your cunt is sucking him in so deliciously, each rub at your hooded clit making you clench around him; urging him impossibly deeper. His shaft dragging along your wall, caressing each and every sweet spot inside of you.

It has you closing your eyes with your eyebrows furrowed, an expression that would make him think you were in pain if it wasn't by the loud moans of his name leaving your lips like a mantra.

“Open your eyes, please, sweetheart… Look at me, love.” He moans, moving his free hand to cup your face so you will look at him. Resting his forehead against yours, your breath hitting his chin. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum, sweetheart, please.”

You finally open your eyes, looking right into his when he slightly moves back and it is like an arrow went through his heart. He notices how your free hand grabs the arm on your face, not wanting to let escape any kind of contact and his heart melts when he notices you lay your face on his hand, kissing his palm.

Such a small gesture that has his blood rushing to his head making the tip of his ears blush, as if he wasn't balls deep into you. But he feels his ball tighten with the want for release, and he can't miss the opportunity to feel you come undone around his dick.

So using every ounce of self restraint he pulls the hand from your face away, moving it back to where you are connected, rubbing his thumb over your clit making you mewl.

He can feel you get tighter and tighter as your orgasm approaches, making it harder for him to move freely at the immensely pleasurable feeling.

It's only when he finally feels you unclench, your head falling back in a silent cry and your legs shaking slightly; that he feels you cum, your arousal spurting out of your drenched cunt with each thrust of his hips.

He groans, having missed your fuck out expression when you let your head fall and deprived him of the desired sight. So he moves his hand from your clit, moving it to the back of your head to move it forward so you look right at him.

And you look so beautiful, if he died right there he would die happy, so he can't help himself when he bends forwards, kissing you sloppy and nasty with his horny brain.

The last thrusts of his hips hard and deep making you bounce and whine, moaning softly and long when you feel him spill deep inside of you. A shiver running down your spine at the warm sensation, your hand on his shirt falling down to help you support yourself.

And it's when you pull apart from the kiss, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat, your chest rising at an unsteady pace and your cunt still pulsing around his length that he realizes how deep under his skin you have buried yourself.

He can't keep living like this, not able to sleep in the same bed as you every night, waiting for another opportunity like this, hoping everyday will be the day. He needs to see your smile everyday, to have your number, for you to have his surname, everything. Absolute smitten with you, enamored even. Falling so deep in love after such a short period of time, his heart aching at the thought of pulling away, how could he not love you when you are so obviously his soulmat-

“D'accord! That was a good one, let's wrap everything up, tout le monde!” The director shouts, bringing the situation down on Alex.

He suddenly realizes everyone around the two of you, the cameras, the crew, the assistants, the director.

The whole vineyard owner's daughter plot of the porn movie was a bit odd from the beginning, but when he laid his eyes on him he didn't give a damn about the plot.

Being a CIA agent had made Alex live in strange situations, but starring on a porn movie in a foreign country had to be the top one.

He barely remembers how this was related with the mission, something about some suspicious money being moved along with the crew. But in all honesty, he would also move all his money after you.

Especially when you clench for a last time around his girth, the aftershock of you orgasm that makes him groan as he finally pulls out. “Sorry” The two of you mumble, chuckling at the echo and blushing like you didn't just fuck eachother brains off.

He helps you stand back on your feet, his hands resting on your waist and unable to peel his eyes away from your face.

“Are you alright, Alex?” You ask, rubbing his biceps in a consoling way.

And you look at him so softly, almost unaffected by the whole ordeal, that it sends Alex into a spiral. Were those noises you were making real? Was the way you were clinging onto his shoulder true? Would you moan his name just like you moaned his surname?

He needed to know the answer to those questions, and there was only one way to find out.

“Y-Yeah, don't worry about it, love.” He says making you smile wider. “But I was wondering… do you know any good restaurants in the area? Maybe one you wouldn't mind having dinner at with me?”

Taglist: @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @whos-fran

@thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind

@cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3

@mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby

@hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr

@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane

[numberonecodwomenfan]

my whole body hurts bc i pulled a muscle while trying to skate on asphalt w/o outdoor wheels (i was coming straight from roller derby practice to a parade and i wanted to skate in the parade ok) and then immediately walking a mile and a half in the parade and i wish i were roller derby au!farah rn because i just know she would text alex like “babe i just almost did the splits from being a dumbass and falling while skating on asphalt and my thighs hurt” and he would text back immediately “heating pad or ice pack when u get home” and then not let her do anything for the next few days

[wrylu]

giggles and gives you faralexgaz cuddle pile

[temeyes]

Hey! I love your style ☺️ Can you draw Alex? if that's okay. It could be anything really. Thank you 🫶🏻

ok!!!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve. 

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband. 

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst. 

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum. 

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe. 

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening. 

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag. 

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened. 

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.” 

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.” 

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm. 

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.” 

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.” 

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his. 

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine. 

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state. 

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek. 

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look. 

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.” 

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy. 

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears. 

Though, confusion takes president. 

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air. 

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear. 

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something? 

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed. 

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door. 

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose. 

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?” 

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here. 

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.” 

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor. 

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly. 

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues. 

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth. 

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.” 

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn. 

But he made his bed. 

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.” 

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance. 

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned. 

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.” 

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily. 

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage. 

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files. 

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs. 

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.” 

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters. 

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright. 

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan. 

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force. 

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger. 

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?” 

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds. 

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…” 

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it. 

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals. 

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had. 

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked. 

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered. 

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work. 

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox. 

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen. 

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood. 

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.” 

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough. 

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex. 

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.” 

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.” 

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks. 

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet. 

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.” 

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm. 

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?” 

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper. 

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate. 

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete. 

“Alex…” you whisper to no one. 

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you. 

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly. 

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too. 

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you? 

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows. 

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse. 

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven. 

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger. 

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed. 

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face. 

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”  

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up? 

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change. 

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all. 

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again. 

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring. 

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse. 

Dead silence. 

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—” 

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear. 

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen. 

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass. 

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens. 

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest. 

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.” 

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony. 

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor. 

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you. 

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again. 

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.” 

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained. 

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him. 

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed. 

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired. 

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate. 

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now. 

All that you needed was Alex. Your home. 

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot. 

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.” 

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.” 

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.” 

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?” 

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once. 

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” 

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.” 

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

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[chamomiletealeaf]

Warnings: sub! Alex Keller, fem! afab reader, dry humping, Alex being touch starved :(

Poor sweet little Alex Keller who doesn’t think you’ll ever notice him since he’s not on the 141 and you spend all your time with them.

Alex Keller who watches you laugh with Johnny in the mess hall and wishes it was him making you laugh.

Alex Keller who rehearses how he’s going to actually talk to you first but never gets the courage to do so.

Alex Keller who one day passes you on base and makes eye contact with you, and is shocked when you smile at him.

“Hey Keller.” You say as you walk past him.

His eyes widen as he whispers a “hi” back and he slows down a bit, watching as you carry on.

How the fuck did you know him? You’ve only met a few times when you trained him? There’s no way you could’ve remembered him?

Alex Keller who fucks up into his fist that night remembering the way you smiled at him and how your hips swayed as you walked, cheeks flushing as he cums all over himself to the thought of you.

Alex Keller who sees you the next day while walking into the gym on base in one of those tight long sleeved zip up workout shirts and a pair of workout shorts and nearly passes out when he catches the smallest glimpse of your cleavage.

“Hey you wanna spar Keller?” You ask him with a smile and his eyes widen while he watches you wrap your hands.

“Uh- yeah. Ok.” He says nervously and you giggle to yourself at how off guard you caught him.

He steps onto the mat with you and after a few rounds of pinning him you pin him to the mat one more time straddling his waist with his arms pinned to the sides of his head.

Instead of getting up you release his hands and sit back on him, still straddling his waist as you cross your arms.

“Y’know I’m starting to think you’re letting me win Keller.” You say with a smirk and he groans at the feeling of your weight on his clothed semi hard-on and instinctively reaches out to grab your hips.

He realizes what he’s done and his eyes widen and yours do too.

“I- sorry I didn’t mean to.” He says and immediately lets go of your hips, slinging an arm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

But you smirk, arms still crossed as you lean forward and place both hands by his head, making him moan involuntarily from the friction on his groin.

“Is this why you’ve been letting me win? Huh, Alex? You ask slyly, emphasizing his name rolling off your tongue which makes him whimper and buck up into you, his body betraying him.

“Fuck- I- stop doing that I’m trying-“ He tries to explain himself, his arm still over his eyes but you grab his arm and move it off his face to look at him.

“It’s ok honey, you can be honest with me.” You tease him a little, once again accentuating the pet name, clearly enjoying the effect you’re having on him and he’s never been more embarrassed in his life. You weren’t supposed to know what you do to him, not like this.

He turns his face away from you but you grip it and force him to look at you.

“Y’know, if you wanted me on top of you Keller you could’ve just asked.” You say with a smirk and you feel him twitch under you.

“Mmph.. fuck y/n, please.” He begs, finally giving up and giving in to you.

“Please what cutie?” You ask him and his breath hitches.

“Kiss me. Please. Anything.” He begs and you lean in to kiss him, hand still gripping his jaw.

He moans and his hands fly up to your hips and squeeze while you make out with him and he just can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you.

You grind down on him while you kiss him and go to kiss down his neck.

You kiss down his neck until you get to his pulse point and he moans, loudly, and you smile to yourself at how cute he is, unable to control himself.

You continue to grind down on him as he takes over, gripping your hips so hard they almost hurt and dry humping you, all while you leave hickeys up and down his neck.

“Fuck y/n, mmph, that’s- that’s good.” He mumbles out in a high pitched voice.

“You gonna cum in your pants for me? Huh baby? Poor thing just can’t help himself can he?”

He whimpers at your words and you grind down on him one more time and bite his pulse point.

He grinds up into you faster and harder from your words and pulls you down into him while he continues to thrust up before cumming in his pants from just your weight on top of him and your words, his high pitched moans and whimpers echoing off the gym walls.

You move from his neck and look down at his face, cheeks flushed from cumming and embarrassment.

You kiss him again then lift your hips up to look down at his khaki colored cargos to see the big dark wet spot on them that he soaked through.

You giggle at the sight then coo at him.

“Did so good for me honey.” You tell him as he still continues to catch his breath.

“Maybe next time I’ll let you cum inside me hm?” You ask, and his eyes widen with a smile, already excited for when this “next time” is.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Their Career Change After the Military

————

COD Men Headcanons

————

König

Househusband

He was tired all the time after coming back from the Military so he picked up on being a househusband and doing all the chores around the house while his s/o goes to work

It started out as making lunches for you

Then hand delivering them to you before lunch

He also started to fix things around the house he told you not to call someone for because he could look it up and do it himself free of charge

Hates messes now. He started to develop this thing where he hates messes no matter what it was. It wasn’t OCD, but he hates when he cleans something and thing a few seconds later gets dirty again

Cleans…that’s all he does when he’s bored

Hardly sits, he only sits if he needs a break from whatever he’s doing

————

Ghost

Police officer

He misses how he use to help in the military so picked up an application and filled it out to be an officer

He guards around the royal palace to keep those stupid and annoying tourists in line when touching the royal palaces horses at the gates

His voice starts to slowly become more deeper over the years from telling pedestrians to leave the horses alone

Of course they listened to man holding a gun, not like he was ever going to use it, it was just to make myself look scary

Honestly hates working in the cold or rain but does it for his job

Gets shy when his s/o comes around to have lunch with him. He waits till he is relieved from duty to go eat with his partner

He loves seeing his s/o come around in cute outfits he knows that he will fold to

————

Price

Office manager

Loves wearing the suits to get a rouse from his s/o

Loves it when his s/o visits him in the office just to drop something off he forgot at home or just to have lunch together

Got the job because he knew some people that could help get this job after he retired from the military

His desk at his work his boring with a small framed picture of his s/o sitting next to his pc

He doesn’t go to the office parties, he’d rather stay home with his s/o and not have to worry about them, he deals with them long enough at work he doesn’t need to be there for after hours

Doesn’t have a “work wife/husband” because he’s married

————

Soap

Mechanic

Took the job because he liked fixing cars

He was a personal mechanic to a race car driver for some time but quit to open his own shop

Makes a lot

He fixes his s/o car for free

Has his personal project with a Porsche 911 GT3 that he does drag races in

His personal car has nothing special but maybe a loud exhaust pipe

Takes time in his work, if it’s something bad like a busted engine he’s going to take his time not rush the process just to get the car out of his shop. If it takes a month it’s going to take a month

————

Alejandro

Stock Broker

He didn’t want the job at first knowing it’s probably boring but when his friend bragged about the almost 3 million dollars sitting in his pocket

Took the job and makes close to 5 million

It’s a love hate relationship type of job. Hates it because of the people he works with, loves it because he gets to spend his money on his s/o

His s/o meets him for lunch dates

Doesn’t go to work parties

He does pull the late night hours coming close to 3 in the morning but doesn’t have to go to work till 11

He likes trying on new suits he bought to show them off to his s/o to see their opinion on his suits

Alejandro’s desk is full of random papers from other co-workers and from customers

————

Gaz

Works from home

He starts working from home. He was able to find a job he could work from home from and can go in once a month

Gaz was able to find a job as a I.T. Guy, when Gaz was younger he messed around with coding and helping people with new technology, so he figured this would be good for him

He’s stuck in front of a computer 6 hours a day, but then the rest of his time is with his partner

He loves the view he has from his home office being able to overlook the city as he worked from home and his s/o bring him lunch and snacks every so often

Gaz loves the idea that he can wear whatever he wants to his job and no one will know

Gaz sometimes loses his mind when he has to deal with an elderly who could barely remember their password, there has been many times Gaz would have to remind them that he doesn’t know their passwords

————

Alex

Picks up the hobby of gardening

He lowkey didn’t think he’d enjoy gardening

He thought it was boring till he grew his first strawberry bush with success and no rotten fruit

He started to make the garden bigger and then made a greenhouse for flowers and succulents

Started to sell fruit and vegetables at the local farmers market

Doesn’t make a whole lot and that’s fine with him. What he does make he spends on his garden or his s/o

His s/o also jumps in to help him with the garden

Starts asking his ol’ buddies if they were interested in some of the stuff he grew

The next thing now is he wants chickens to sell their eggs

[luvverslair]

Headcanons on what romance tropes you think COD (plus Alex Keller, Graves, Rudy, and Alejandro) characters and their significant other would fall under/be?

hi !! thank you for requesting this !! i have so many ideas for this !!

Price: friends to lovers, I think when Y/n first met Price they became good friends. After a while, they both started to come to the realization there was something more there, something much more. After a few awkward weeks, they both finally acted on it.

Ghost: frenemies to lovers. just hear me out when you and Ghost first met whenever you did something to put yourself in danger whether it was something small like forgetting to charge your phone or something bigger like going out alone and walking home in the dark he would scold you. however, after a while, he began to realize why he cared so much because he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.

Soap: Best friends to lovers, simalr to Price i know but it was as simple as you two being inspratable since the moment you met and being the closest of friends and then one day Something clicked, something that showed your relationship was much more then best friends. Whether it both clicked for you at the same time Is up for debate But at some point in time it became clear to the both of you and releionship hasn't been the same since.

Gaz: Soulmates. Not overly exaggerating at all,You and Gaz met one day and from then on you both knew it was meant to be. You were both equally infatuated with each other and there was no changing that. While it’s not always the best decision to run into relationships within the first week of you guys talking you were in a relationship and it’s been that way ever since.

Alex: Coworkers to Lovers, I recently wrote about Alex falling in love with someone he worked with and honestly, I think it fits perfectly. When you both met each other it was decently clear there was something There, but as you Both spent more time together at work you then started spending time together outside of work which really open both of your eyes to your true feelings for each other.

Alejandro: Secrect relationship, you and Alejandro had been seeing each other for quite some time, the only problem was you liked to keep that fact to yourselves. You both had insanely chaotic lives and you liked coming home to eachother and letting all your worries wash away, you like how that time you spent together for only for you two and you two only.

Rudy: Love at first sight, when you both laid eyes on each other it was immediately crystal clear your love for each other, you both found one another the most precious thing in your lives. You almost instantly hit it off with one another and from then on it was adamant you’d be together forever.

Graves: Oppisties Attract, You and Graves were opposites. From your view of the world down to what television shows you liked there was almost nothing you could agree on, almost nothing. The one thing you could both one hundred percent agree on was your love for one another, while you might disagree on things you’ll never disagree when it comes to how much you care for one another.

ahh i had so much fun writing this, thank you again for requesting And as always id love any feedback anyone has !! thanks for reading.

luv, luvver

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Here's another for the 50 word challenge by @deadbranch

“Alex! Please, please don't stop!” You whined. Why would he? He had you, the most beautiful person he's ever seen, under him. Screaming his name, writhing in the pleasure he was giving her. “Oh trust me, I don't plan to sweetheart.” His grip on your hips tightened. Ecstasy took over.

[numberonecodwomenfan]

alex keller is not a golden retriever that man is a jack russel terrier

like. look at them. thats the same guy

[mudgazing]

saw a tweet and immediately thought of them :3

[shyravenns]

Did a Ko-Fi request/comm for a few friends! It was about a Valentine's Day event that they were creating haha

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

i know you said request are closed but when they are open again (if they are again) could you possibly do alex keller just coming home from deployment with smut? your price writing are so amazing btw i’ve been reading them for 2 days now

Again, this is a super old ask, lmfao, sorry about that. I offer you pure filth for forgiveness.

Warnings: smut, NSFW, F!Reader, etc. (18+)

Wet slapping echoed off the walls, held back whines trapped in your throat as your thighs burn with exertion. Alex lays under you, head tilted back and neck bared; his fingers bruise your hips as he groans and gasps through gritted teeth.

When he came home from his assignment overseas, he'd known he'd been gone longer than anticipated, but if he'd known you'd been this desperate for him he would have gotten on the first plane home.

"Fuck," your boyfriend whimpers, rapid, messy, slurping in his ears as you jump up and down on his cock, back arched and tits bouncing as your cunt swallows him. Dripping sweat slides off your bodies, a testament to the feral way you'd been riding him for what seems like hours.

Alex can't even remember the number of times he'd felt his stomach bunch; eyes clamping shut as his throat groaned deeply. Multiple releases bleed over his thighs and pelvis, sloppy fluids connecting flesh in strings of slick cum.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, b-been needin' this since I got off that damn p-," his voice cuts out as you clamp around him, his sensitive dick twitching as you grind with a mewl playing on your lips. The man's hips jump as his back arches harshly, forcing out," P...plane! Ah!"

Your mouth is open with ecstasy, and above him, you're quite the vulgar picture of instinctual desperation. He can't help the way he watches you with hickeys down his neck and chest; pulsing purple bruises adding to the tightening of his thighs. Alex's fingers kneed your flesh in desperation, pleasure so sharp it borders on pain stuck in the lines on his forehead.

"P-please," he whimpers, and you drag your nails down his pecs in long lines of red. "God."

Alex gets more shaky and desperate, hands moving up to grip your hips despite the loose and lax hold in his weak rapture. At the incoming clench of his balls and the panicked widening of his eyes, his hips start to cant into yours in broken thrusts. Whined moans and dog tags stuck around his neck like a collar.

You grab at them as he thrusts up into you, gasping and faltering for a moment at the dig. Shared eyes, blown with lust and orgasmic torment. Alex feels your pussy tighten and watches your lashes flutter when your clit bumps into his lower abdomen, stimulating you perfectly on his happy trail.

"A-Alex, missed you s'much, Baby," you slur out with heaving lungs. The man's cock jumps harder, pace somehow increasing as you both roll your thighs. "Feel so full with you inside me. S-so good."

Neither of you would be getting out of this bed tomorrow.

Alex starts to breathe heavily again, his body trembling. He grits his teeth and starts to match your movements, groaning loudly into the air with broken need. He almost seems to be growling as he presses himself into you, his wound coil growing second by second. By the look on your face and the way your expression breaks with breathy moans, you're not far behind him in this senseless fucking session.

The man's surprised the both of you can even still speak over the sensation of his grating cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Echoing off the walls, cut-off cries grow in volume and breathiness, each accented by a violent thrust consisting of oxycontin and bare impulse. The bed frame has put a dent in the wall with its repetitive knocking, a telltale slam-slam-slam that makes the both of you thankful you don't have neighbors.

Fuck, you were acting like horny teenagers; drunk off each other's scent and the sheen of bliss—there just wasn't any stopping.

With the coil growing and growing, abs clenching and dog tags in your grip, Alex lets you manhandle his chin so you can shove your tongue down his throat; hands grasping around your waist to thrust up into you at a better angle.

Your eyes roll back, saliva dripping from your chins to splatter Alex's chest. His mustache burns over your lower face, but it doesn't stop you from bringing him back in, sucking and biting on his lips.

"I—" Alex shakes, groaning in between passes of your mouth and the heat on his cheeks. "Christ, S...Sweetheart, I'm gonna," his entire body is tight, dick moving even more wildly with its prodding tip grazing your cervix. Your body spasms and you cry out, cunt hugging him like it doesn't want him to leave. Slick and the score of previous rounds slap wetly as skin connects over and over, making flesh shine. A tipping point is reached with high voices and rapid lungs. "I-I'm gonna—!"

You both snap at the same time.

Alex's head goes back into the pillow, back completely leaving the bed in an arch and cock throbbing as he spills his load inside of your wet heat with broken ruts that make him whimper. On top of his form, your entire form goes limp, legs shaking as you collapse onto your boyfriend's gasping chest with ragged breaths and feel the flood of his orgasm spreading inside of your womb.

The spend seeps out like the others, pussy completely full and pulsing; raw with the feeling of cum bubbling through the plug of Alex's cock.

Both of you try not to move, catching your respective breaths with legs spread wide and vibrating. After a long, long while where you nearly pass out from pure exhaustion, you feel Alex's chest rise fast for a moment. You peek a slow eye and groan as your boyfriend starts laughing.

Your mouth releases a low whine as his dick jumps inside of your clutch and Alex also winces moments later.

"...Fuck, Doll." Lips quirking, a sweaty hand finds your spine, and fingers tap against the vertebrae in broken intervals of shakes. You practically purr like a cat as the hoarse voice rasps out, "You, uh, you sure know how to welcome a guy home, huh?"

[thisfanisgonesorry]

when you sleep — alex keller

kinktober day 5: somno (dont ask abt day 4)

the desperation from being apart for so long

tags: smut, somno / sleepy sex, dubcon (w/ explicit consent), breeding, light cumeating, light cunnilingus, thigh fucking

💤

He walked into the apartment with an annoyed groan, dropping his bag with a loud thud and kicking his boots off. His body was tense and his eyebrows were furrowed, it took everything in him to keep his agitated mumbles to himself.

Getting home was delayed by a week which already had him on edge, there was nothing more he wanted than to come home, but then instead of getting home at a tame 6 p.m like intended, it was 3 in the morning and the one face he wanted to see would’ve already been fast asleep.

He stood above the bed, shucking off his uniform, his eyes stayed glued to the calm, sleeping figure of his lover as he threw the damned uniform to a corner of the room to be cleaned up after he’d got some rest.

He unzipped his pants and tugged them to his thighs before a curt ‘fuck’ hissed from between his lips. He kicked them to the side, the ball of his palm rubbing over his growing erection. 

“Baby?” He cooed sweetly, crawling into bed behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Baby, wake up.” He pleaded with a kiss on the shoulder as his hardened bulge pressed into the soft curve of my backside.

“Mhm?”

“Angel, I’m home.” He sighed to himself, feeling the relief of some of the tension. I mumbled his name and attempted to roll over to face him but he kept me firm in place. “No, stay there.” He whispered.

He grinded his hips against me softly for a moment, there was no set rhythm and was based entirely on instinct and desperation alone. His hands fiddled with the hem of my shirt, resting on the soft skin of my stomach as he kissed my neck and shoulder, earning quiet, content hums in response.

His hands dug into the waistband of my underwear, tugging them down gently. “You okay?” He asked shortly, earning a nod and an affirmative hum. “Just let me—“ He pulled his own underwear down and slid his wet, leaky dick between my thighs.

“S’okay.” My hands found his and played with them as I slowly began to wake up, still drowsed by sleep.

“Missed you so goddamn much.” He pleaded mindlessly. “Hated fucking my fist. I’m so fucking pent up, angel.”

His hips started thrusting, dragging his dick against my thighs. “Ah, fuck, so soft.” He choked out, his grip on my waist tightening as he sped up the pace, methodically moving his hips to his own release.

He was overly sensitive from neglecting his own needs while away from home. It had been too long away, slight gasps, pants and whines leaving his throat at the movements. Too long since he felt the soft skin of my body — too long that he’d been able to touch me like this. He was writhing at the soft plush of my thighs wrapping around his needy dick.

“Sorry, not usually like this.” He gritted out, embarrassed by his desperation. “Gonna cum all over your thighs, baby.” He confessed with a scrunched up face, his forehead resting against my shoulder.  “Jus’ go back to sleep, baby, I’ll finish up.”

“Y’can fuck me.” I murmured into the pillow. 

He let out a soft exhale. “Yeah? I feel your pussy leakin’ all over my cock.” His breathing was ragged and harsh as he tried to keep his movements steady. “I’ll fuck you proper, promise. I’ll make it good f’you.” 

I let out a soft sigh and moved against him, the tip of his dick brushing against my bundle of nerves, the slickness coating his achingly hard erection. “Alex.” I breathed as a warning. “Jus’ fuck me.” My voice was doused in sleep, I leant back into him before lazily rolling on my back and tugging at him. 

“Angel, I don’t..” He took a sharp inhale before pressing a soft kiss onto my lips, his fingers trailing my jaw. “God, I love you.” He whispered, his original defiance melting away as he climbed on top of me.

He pressed a dozen or so kisses onto my face as he lined himself up. He rubbed the squishy head between the folds, groaning inwardly and enjoying the view despite the dim room. The only light was that from the ensuite, revealing just enough. His tip was a dark red, almost purple, from how much he needed this.

His hands were preoccupied, one languidly stroking himself while he felt the slickness coat his dick, and the other taking a handful of the loose sheet. “You fuck yourself while ‘ve been gone?” He asked, his voice was tender and soft; filled with adoration for the baby he’s missed so much.

“Mhm.” I spoke sleepily, gradually waking up despite my exhaustion, my eyes glued to watching him rub himself against me. “Only fingers. Wanted y’to come back wit’ me all tight.”

“Awh, honey.” He crooned despite the raggedness behind his voice. The tip caught against the hole and his eyes fluttered briefly before pushing in. “You’re so tight, angel, fuck — that’s a good girl.”

“Like that.” I whined out. “Love feeling you after you’ve been gone.” 

His response was quick, sharp and breathless. “Me too.” He panted, burying himself to the hilt slowly, letting both of us feel the stretch to its full extent, basking in it like morning sun. “Even after these months, you take me perfectly, sweet girl.” His voice choked out.

He reached hilt, his tip nudging against my back wall and his balls flush against my ass. He holds the position for a moment, causing a whine to drag out of my throat. “Al, baby, c’mon.” I pleaded gently, trying to shuffle against him.

“Stop, please.” He pleaded, his voice dropping to an octave that I’d never heard from him before — his muscles tensed, some of them trembling from the pressure. “I’m gonna cum, give me a moment.” He confesses with a string of whimpers, too enveloped by the feeling to bite them back.

I huffed in amusement, resting my eyes and sinking down into the pillows. “That needy?”

“Basically been edging myself for the last few weeks.” He joked dryly with a shaking voice. “Hated my hand so fuckin’ much, wasn’t enough, couldn’t..” He paused, trying to ration his breathing as I clenched around him, not entirely intentionally, he hunched over slightly as my body pleaded for movement. “Took too long to cum, so I’d give up.. Couldn’t fuckin’ do it, needed it to be you.”

His words were filthy, though they sounded like a love confession and in his own way, it was. He leaned closer to my face, pressing enough kisses to ease the pressure. 

“Let me take you.” He whispered. “Please, I’ll fuckin’ worship you after, but I’m so fucking— I need you, please, I need to cum.” He begged, he actually begged. This was a man that’d taken more lives than he can count, sent all over the world to kill — but here he was, begging after months of sexual frustration.

“Y’so pretty when you beg.” I teased and his hands twitched, his hands digging into my hips, crescent moon-shapes onto the flesh as he restrained himself. A whispered ‘please’ escaped his lips like a cherry on top, and I basked in the dominance for a moment. “What do you want?” 

“Want you under me. Been wanting your pretty li’l ass in the air, been picturing your pretty legs spread for me, showin’ me that pretty fuckin’ pussy, just..” He trailed off with a choked groan, the way his voice shook was clear enough to tell you that he couldn’t even think straight. “God, puttin’ y’self on display for me to just take.”

I shuffled under his tight grip, his fingers brushing my sides as he held himself with soldier-like restraint. I placed my hands over his, biting back all the snarky comments I had to make about his pleads. “So take it.”

His mind went blank and it was like he was seeing stars, he slid himself out and was careful, incredibly gentle, as he flipped me over. I laid on my stomach briefly and he ran his hands up and down my back, feeling the fabric of the shirt, before I pushed myself up onto my knees. I pressed myself against his hips, earning a twitch from his erection as it leant against the curve of my ass.

His hands landed on the soft skin of my backside, moving me forward before his dominant hand drifted downwards, his index and thumb spreading the folds so he could get a good look, watching the way the separation caused strings of slick between them, coating the tips of his fingers.

“Love you.” He babbled as a ‘thank you’ at the view, his other hand continued to push my position into place, trying to find a way that was more comfortable on my joints so he could just bury himself into me and never leave. My face was pressed comfortably into my pillow and I whined out for him.

He pressed himself slowly to the hilt with a soft groan. “That’s my girl.” He praised, leaning over me and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder and down my back, his fingers brushing through my hair. “Y’feel so much better than I remember.”

His words went straight to my core, the warm tingle making me clench and squeeze around him. His fingers began to dig into my scalp, holding it out of the way so he got a pleasant view of my neck and shoulders. He was mesmerised by the way my shoulders moved as I breathed and the way my throat moved as I moaned and swallowed thickly, my cheek pressing into the soft fabric and my mouth making an ‘O’ shape to keep my breathing steady at the sharp tension.

“You’re so lovely, angel.” He praised, beginning his gradual thrusts, slow enough to reminisce on what he’s missed. “So sweet to me, y’re lettin’ me have you like this.. Could’ve jus’ let me fuck your thighs, gone to sleep.” He sighed contently, not at all upset at the previous concept, he would’ve been just fine with it. His words were that of a love drunk lunatic, rambling every earnest word he could come up with. “I could’ve jus’ cuddled up to you ‘n’fucked you proper tomorrow but god, just..”

“Love you too much.” I mumbled into the pillow, feeling him fuck me further into the soft fabric. His hands on my hips dragged me to meet his movements, a sweet need to keep me comfortable while he literally took what he wanted.

His breath was still raggedy as he tried to make this as pleasant for both parties, though it was well known this wouldn’t be how sex usually was considering how he needed to let out his pent up frustrations. “Such a good girl, y’know I’ve wanted you for so long.” He praised, feeling incredibly grateful that he wouldn’t have to wait any longer. “My memory never does you justice.”

I muffled my sounds through the pillow as he moved us in tandem. I wiggled my hips at him and he hissed, his fingers dug into the plump flesh of my ass. “Take what’s yours, Alex.” I murmured into the pillow, my head bobbing at his thrusts.

“Always.” He whispered, his hands drifting. He enjoyed the fistful of ass, though his other hand continued to run up and down my spine, his hands dragging under the fabric of my tank shirt, his fingers brushing my hair to the side to display my shoulders to him. He continued to hunch himself over, pressing kisses onto parts of my back, feeling the muscles tense.

His hands wrapped around my hair once again, a makeshift ponytail as he displayed my neck to him fully. A kiss on the back of my neck, his teeth grazing slightly. His hands and lips tingling with the need to remember every inch of the body displayed in front of him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He praised, littering kisses on my neck and shoulder, trying to find any sense of closeness to cure the loneliness that seeped his bones while away. “And your skin is so sweet.”

He was winding me up, reaching places that haven’t been touched since his departure, the spongy flesh stretching to swallow him whole as he filled the space perfectly, and even after months, his muscle memory pushed him into just the right places.

Lewd sounds fell from my lips, a sharp gasp as he nuzzled against the spot of heaven. My eyes fell closed, threatening to roll back into my skull, his fingernails massaging my scalp, threatening to pull my hair back and bend my neck to unmuffle the sounds into the pillow. I whined out for him, and he conceded.

He pulled away from my neck, his body completely upright as he stopped moving my hips to meet his hips, instead pulling himself back and forth more suitably, holding my hips firmly in place so I couldn’t fuck myself back on him if I tried, or at least without a notable amount of effort. “Could take a bite out of that ass.” He grunted, slowing his movements to stop himself from cumming, though it earned him a dejected sigh, uncontent.

“I was close.” I tried to squirm, though his trained restraint held me firmly. He hushed me quietly as he moved slowly, depressingly so — enough to keep me sated while fighting off his own orgasm.

 “Touch yourself for me.” He whispered, crooning sweetly. “Help me, let me use you.”

My legs struggled to hold myself up, wanting to buckle and go limp. I twitched around him as I rubbed figure 8’s to make up for the lack of friction from his movements.

“Fuck.” He choked out, a whimper escaping his throat. “You’re making this difficult.” The ball of his palm rested on the bottom of my spine, trying to soothe me. His hips stuttered and he whispered silent pleads.

“‘M sorry, you feel so good, missed your cock.”

“I know, angel. Jus’ don’t wanna be some chump that cums in 2 seconds.” He huffed, puffing his chest out. A short laugh at his own snide comment. “I wanna take my time on you.” His words were enchantingly sweet despite his outward demeanour, his actions of brute exploitation.

“Mhm, I don’t care.” I reassured, knowing how pent up he was — how angry his cock must look, all red and swollen from being neglected. He pushed into my walls like he had a frustrating desperation, thick and achingly hard.

“Baby.” He chuckled. “Might be usin’ you, but ‘m not selfish. Gonna make sure you cum on my cock, yeah? ‘M not selfish.” His words lingered, he echoed to convince himself that he wouldn’t get carried away, ‘I’m not selfish’ he tried to convince himself. Despite how appealing his thoughts were, he took a shaky inhale, pushing them away.

My hips moved on their own accord, continuing his thrusts slowly after a moment of stillness, he had me bouncing at his movements with the weak slapping sounds of our hips connecting, clawing ah-ah-ah’s leaving my throat in time to his thrusts. He buried himself deeply into my guts, he had no shame in hiding his noises, he was desperate and he wanted me to know how badly he wanted it.

He let out a continuous string of grunts, groans and whines. “Keep playin’ with your cute pussy, doll. Get yourself there for me, get yourself off.” I nodded in time with him, moving my hands in a mix between frantic, wild need and precise movements. I clamped down on him, and he grunted, a choked cry as his composure almost turned to dust right then and there.

He breathed heavily, watching me squirm with want. “Wanna cum on your cock so bad.” I babbled, a distant whine murmured into the saliva-stained pillow. “So damn close.” I was barely audible, incoherent mumbles and cries

His slow movements picked up speed, his hand running through my hair, a makeshift ponytail in his tight fingers as he fought the urge to crane my neck again. “Make some noise, let me know how much you’ve missed me.” He whispered lowly. “Missed your pretty fuckin’noises, your pretty pussy, your pretty damn face.” He pressed a chaste kiss on my shoulder, then the side of my face. 

His fingers trailing through the ponytail, messily brushing knots from sleep out of it, before tugging on it slightly, just enough to move my mouth from the pillow. He tried his hand at small acts of devotion, his body shaking and trembling as he tried to restrain the greedy thrusts his body ached for.

“Wanna pull your neck so far back that it hurts.” He grumbled under his breath, before clearing his throat. “God, I love you, my pretty angel.” He crooned sweetly, covering up his previous devious thoughts, hoping my lust-haze blurred his words.

I sighed, fighting his grip to muffle myself into the pillow. “I’m close.” Whiney, high-pitched moans getting censored by the fabric I threatened to stuff into my mouth, sinking my teeth into it.

He nodded with each thrust, bouncing his head like he had no thoughts, watching me close my eyes in bliss, his grip on my hair loosened, just tight enough to keep the hair off my neck, letting the cool air brush against the skin to ease the sweat droplets forming all over my body. His thrusts began to lean more into my body, a white-knuckle grip on my waist, his fingers ghosting under the hem of the shirt. Sharp inhales and panting grunts from under his breath as he focused on whatever he could do to chase his orgasm off any longer.

“You’re right there.” He pleaded, trying to encourage the climax. “What’d’ya want me to do? Angel? What can get you there closer? What’ll make you— ah—” He hissed at the sudden tightness. “So fuckin’ tight, oh my god.” A choked gasp, and he scrunched his eyes tightly, then an airy laugh. “Squeezin’ the life outta me.” 

Incoherencies fell from my mouth like stones, they were heavy yet quiet. I felt my stomach tense up under his fingers, my legs feeling like they’d collapse under my own weight and feeling my body clamp down on him like a vice, trying to keep him firmly in place. Then it washed over me, a high pitched whine. “Alex—!” 

A low guttural groan as he twitched, his hips stuttering with desperation, moving more feverishly. “Oh fuuck, thank you.” He grunted, huffing for air. He felt the intermittent spasming cunt around him, a weak attempt of my body to milk him dry.

Both our bodies were slick and sticky with sweat, and he basked in my pleasure. “Don’t stop.” I almost sobbed; and he nodded with an open mouth grin, lazily smiling down.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He felt the spasm die down into twitching of overstimulus, and the way the warmth hugged him was too much for him — feeling the squelch of the wetness around him as he drove his hips to his finish. His hips pushed as deep as they could, brushing against my cervix, and his own member twitched before he came with a loud, pornographic moan.

“That’s m’pretty li’l angel.” He slurred, his voice gruff as he came hard, flooding my insides with his seed. “Missed you so fu-ucking much.” And his body went limp, laying himself down against me, idly grinding his hips into mine. He was still painfully hard, sagging only slightly, and he nuzzled into the sweat-musk of my neck.

My hands fell from my sensitive clit, and I went limp from under his heavy body, letting his body weight sink onto me, I tried to ration my breathing, catching my breath as he still panted desperately.

“Gotta keep m’cum in you.” He grumbled, his nose brushing against the damp curve of my neck. He kept grinding into place, a low groan as he felt his arousal not falter in the slightest. I hummed, and he laughed, still feeling the way the oversensitivity felt around him. He pulled himself out, giving himself a few messy, languid strokes as a substitute for the sudden lack of inviting warmth.

His lips trailed down my spine, his fingers dragging the tank top up to worship the skin of my back, the blank canvas he could just paint. He lightly sunk his teeth into my backside, small indents on my ass, met with a light slap when he pulled away. 

He admired the scene in front of him, taking in the dazed, fucked out look on my face, my eyes struggling to stay awake. The way my body slumped into the mattress, all limp, my arms spread out over the pillow like I could just fall asleep right there. He laughed again, almost ignoring the need that consumed him.

“Mhm?” He beckoned, pressing kisses onto my face. “Sleepy girl, you here?” He huffed in amusement. “Did I fuck my pretty girl until she passed out?”

I grumbled under my breath a faint ‘nuh-uh’ — “‘M here.” I sighed, my voice gravelly from exhaustion. “Still here..”

“Let me clean you up.” He spoke sweetly, the palm on my lower back directly aiding the movement to flip me casually and easily onto my spine without moving me too much, to let me rest and to let the ache settle.

He moved his face lower down my body, faint and gentle, ghost-like kisses down my body until he pressed his nose against my clit, a deep inhale of the messy hole he’d ruined. He licked a strip between the wet folds, collecting the juices on his tongue with a short groan. 

“I’ll be doin’ this for hours tomorrow.” He mumbled to himself, completely aware of my languid state. He could stay down there for hours currently, but the way my hips twitched, threatening to pull away from him was all he needed to know better, too much of a good thing and all of that.

His hands stayed on my thighs, and he hushed me quietly. He was too tired to move, too horny to stop, and too loving to leave his sweetness all alone and unclean. Curt kisses place on my thighs as he stretched the muscles outwards, his hands wiping any sweat from behind the knees, and he crawled his way back up my body, angling me onto my side with a greedy kiss on the lips. 

“Mhm, I taste you.” I commented, tasting the mixture of our cum on his lips.

“Tastes sweet, ain’t it? Like heaven.”

He snuggled up behind me like he did originally, his arms wrapped tightly around my stomach and pulling me close against him. I didn’t fight him, sleepily going with the way he moved me around, and he smiled into the crevice of my neck.

I could feel that he was still hard, pressed against my lower back, and he knew I could feel it, a tender kiss on my neck as an apology for it. “God, still fuckin’ hard.” He chuckled dryly. “Might jus’ keep fuckin’ y’thighs ‘till morn’..” He slurred, testing the waters and earning an affirmative hum in response. “You’d be okay wit’ that?”

“Mhm, ‘course.”

“Yeah?” He huffed. “Jus’ go to sleep, angel.” He reassured softly, quiet mumbles under his breath, his fingers running up and down my stomach carefully. “So perfect..”

He took a sharp inhale, a shaky exhale and moved my legs apart slightly, sliding his soaked cock between my thighs, using it as warmth for a moment, so he was already there when he decided his desperation was too much, that the lust made his body ache and his brain fog — he’d tolerate it until he can’t anymore.

“Sleep, pretty angel. Got all’ve tomorrow yet.”

[mockerycrow]

I need more Alex. #8 with him? 🙏🏼

SMUT PROMPTS: Alex Keller Drabble; “Crying Because Of How Good It Feels” (GN!Reader) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Alex groans as he tries his best to stay still, but fuck—you’ve already made him cum twice and he’s so fucking sensitive. “God—just.. slow—slow down, yeah?” Alex laughs, trying to bargain with you as your hand keeping pumping his weeping cock. His laugh turns into a breathy noise escaping his throat, his left leg—which is a prosthetic—jolts a bit. “Why? Does it hurt?” You murmur, nipping at his exposed shoulder.

Alex huffs and shrugs, eyes shut tight as he tries to control the brimming tears. “S..SensitivE—oh, Jesus, please—“ He pushes out, panting as your hand mercilessly speeds up, your thumb pushing right under the tip of his cock and squeezing your hand around it, almost like you’re trying to wring all of his loads out of him.

“Aww, come on, you can take it, Alex,” You purr, enjoying the way his teeth clench. His grip on the armrests tighten as you don’t let up. “C’mon, want you to cum for me.. Come on, baby..” You encourage, watching his tears slip out from under his eyelids, sliding down his cheek. “mMmh.. Fuck!” Alex sobs, no longer able to control his hips as he fucks up into your hand, spilling his cum all over your knuckles and his stomach, dripping into his happy trail.

[gothicflowers]

*alex shirtless looking at his mustache in the mirror*

Alex: Maybe I should shave it all off

*Y/N in other room*

“I THINK THE FUCK NOT”