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#keegan p russ x reader
yawnderu · 10 months
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''You're such a fucking asshole and—'' Your words are interrupted by a whiny moan when Keegan starts to thrust up, not letting you get distracted by anything despite your rant.
''Yeah? Keep going, baby. Ride this fucking cock.'' You do as he says, getting on your feet to be able to ride him harder and deeper, the tip of his cock hitting your spongy cervix every single time he goes all the way in. One of your hands is on his hard chest for support, while the other one is holding his jaw, keeping his mouth open to hear the downright lewd groans leaving his lips.
''And... annoying. Cocky. Arrogant—'' Each insult is punctuated by you dropping on his cock, walls tightening up even more when you feel him throbbing inside you.
''Horrible.'' You keep ranting about him despite how good he feels inside you, despite the way his fat cock has your lips gripping on him for dear life. He is all of those things and more, but the tension that has been building up to this day was impossible to ignore. You're impaling yourself down on his cock and he's letting you, mouth open slightly ajar and eyes rolling to the back of his head.
''Fuck— yeah?'' He finds the energy to speak despite the way you're destroying his cock, not even thrusting up anymore and simply letting you do all the work. His hand trails up your spine, grasping at the hair on the back of your neck and keeping your head in place, letting you ride his cock despite his rough hold.
His hand lets go only to slap your face, making you ride faster despite the stinging pain. What a fucking asshole. It doesn't take long for you to return the favor, hand coming up to slap the annoying smirk off of his face— and it works shortly, he looks shocked at getting slapped back, yet pure amusement is soon written all over his annoyingly handsome face, seeing it as a challenge.
You know you fucked up when his calloused hands grasp your waist, holding you in place before using his strength to switch positions, now on top of you. His cock thrusts even deeper like this, hitting your cervix over and over at an almost punishing pace.
''Acting like a fucking bitch all day—'' He groans out, words interrupted by the sharp hiss leaving his lips at the way your pussy tightens more around his cock. He looks down at your lips, leaning closer while managing to keep his brutal thrusts.
''Open that fucking mouth, baby.'' You obey, too fucked out to even think much about it. You're barely able to register the way he spits into your mouth before kissing you, tongues wrapping around the other in a disgusting mess of spit. His hand comes up to grope your tit, fingers squeezing and pulling on the nipple every few seconds as he kisses you, ignoring the way your mixed spit is dripping down the corners of your lips.
The air is heavy with the smell of sex and the sounds of your muffled moans, his grip on your body bruising, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you with an almost animalistic hunger. He doesn't stop making out with you even when his thrusts become even more brutal, spilling into you with a final, deep thrust. His hot white cum filling you up only makes your body tense up, riding out your orgasms together before he collapses on top of you, his weight keeping you pinned to the bed.
''Get off of me, fatass.'' Your protests go ignored, the asshole only making himself even heavier on top of you even when you try your best to get him off.
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rowarn · 9 months
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afab!reader, gn!reader, intoxicated sex (keegan drank a lil hehe), loud!keegan, lots of moaning, creampie, lovesick keegan, pussydrunk keegan
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Keegan who, on a normal day, would never let you hear him let loose with his moans. Its not that he's self-conscious or anything but he prefers to be able to hear you whining and whimpering.
But maybe he gets a few drinks in him, unwinds and grows complacent. His lips get loose the second he gets his cock stuffed into the tight, hot clutch of your precious cunt. 
He’s got you creaming around the base of him and he just…can’t shut up. He starts whimpering, moaning, and sighing – it’s music to your ears, actually. 
“So good,” he pants, fingers minutely trembling where he holds your hips down so he can pump his length into you with ease, “It’s so good. You’re so wet, fuck, do you know what you do to me? You drive me crazy…”
You whine his name, eyes lidded and staring up at him with that dazed, cockdrunk look on your face that you always seem to wear when he’s got you pinned underneath him – how could you not? He fucks you so, so well and he knows it.
“That’s it, baby,” he coos, voice cracking at the end when you suddenly squeeze down around him, “Keep sayin’ my name. Love hearin’ it – keep tellin’ me who it is that’s making you feel this good, hm?”
His name falls from your lips like a heavenly plea, your eyes rolling back in your head when he moans, loud and unabashed. He tosses his head back, adams apple bobbing as he struggles to swallow around the lump in his throat. 
It’s never felt this good before, he swears. Usually alcohol makes it harder for him to get off – sometimes even makes it hard for him to get hard. But something different tonight, he’s so sensitive and he can feel how full his balls are and all he can think about is pumping a dozen loads into you until they’re completely empty. 
He needs it. He needs you.
“Love you so much,” he pants, body collapsing onto yours, chest to chest as his hips pitifully rabbit into you, barely even pulling out before he’s humping the length back into you, “Love you, fuck, I love you.”
You cry his name, nails scraping down his back as your entire body twitches. You can’t escape the stimulation with his weight pressed down on you the way it is. You can’t push him away for a break, you can’t get respite from the overwhelming stimulation of his cock pumping into you or his pelvic bone grinding against your clit. 
It sends you hurdling over the edge terrifyingly fast. Your feet kick uselessly against the back of his thighs as your eyes roll back in your head. 
Keegan moans, panting and gasping into your neck where he hides his face as he feels you cum around him. It pulls his own orgasm forth and he’s spilling into you in 3 quick pumps of his hips. 
Even as his orgasm crests and fades, he doesn’t stop – keeps humping your sensitive cunt until you’re cumming again. And again. And again. 
It was going to be a long night and by now, you could barely even hear yourself over the sound of Keegan’s moaning and babbled praises.<3
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do not respost to a third party site, translate, or modify. reblogs OK!
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lxvvie · 9 months
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Simps 'R Us, Between the Sheets edition: Your faves and the wholesome and funny things you two get up to in bed, part I.
Capt. John Price - When he's half asleep and about to snore loud enough to wake the dead (Price vehemently denies this), you like to have random conversations with him because you know questions you ask will do one of two things: elicit a nonsensical answer from the Cap'n or... wake him up from his sleep altogether.
Gaz - Is curling up into himself because you're the big spoon, you're running your hands over his body because he's highkey lowkey ticklish, and your face is buried in his neck because... he's highkey lowkey ticklish. "Darling, please—" Gaz manages to gasp out between... wait, are you giggling, Garrick?
Soap - Your darling golden retriever chaotic good boyfriend loves... to sleep naked. You're not complaining, though, especially because he loves it when you lay on him. You've made a home for yourself between his thighs; his stomach is your pillow, and he usually has a hand rubbing your head. Helps him to relax, y'know, bonnie? And whenever you don't lay on him, it's an affront to Johnny's... everything. His heart is broken. His soul is crushed. You're too far away from him (even though you're still right under him). How could you do this to him? He can't live like this. No other stud muffin can offer you what he can, beautiful. But no really, bonnie, he needs you on top of him like... yesterday.
Ghost - You really like his body. Like... really like his body. You blow raspberries on his stomach, you smack his ass, you talk about his eyelashes—scratch that, you love his body. To you, every scar tells a story, and you've asked him plenty of times to talk about them. And then you did the unthinkable that had Simon wanting to disappear into the fucking blankets—"Si-bear, I didn't know you had a mole on your inner thigh!" Bloody fucking hell, he'll never hear the end of this. And then you kissed it and Ghost's face had never felt so bloody hot before. Christ, you'll be the death of him, sweetheart.
Roach - Nothing but the most sickeningly saccharine stuff to ever stuff happens with Roach. A poke-fest, a kiss-fest, a tickle-fest, you name it, it happens. Roach loves to sleep with his face buried in your chest and arms wound tight around you. Always. You rubbing his head soothes him to sleep as well.
Alex - You're also the big spoon here, too. You're busy talking about conspiracy theories you believe the government is/was involved in and Alex is entertaining you ("That so, Boss?"). In actuality, his eyes are comically wide because the truth is oftentimes stranger than fiction and you may or may not be walking a little heavy there, Boss.
Alejandro - Is the big spoon to your little spoon in bed no matter what you're doing. Loves to intertwine your legs together, too. Alejo murmurs how much he loves you in your ear and kisses the top of your head before telling you good night.
Rudy - Sometimes when he's asleep, you'll whisper "Rodolfo" in his ear which causes Rudy to shoot up, eyes comically wide because the only time someone calls him by his full government name is when he gets into shit but it wasn't him this time, it was that idiot Alvarez— "Didn't get to tell you good night and I love you, Rudy, so... good night and I love you, Rudy." Oh. Oh. Ha. Real funny.
Farah - A cuddle bunny through and through. She loves laying up under you, her head resting on your shoulder or under your chin, or her face in the crook of your neck. She wants to hear you as you sleep. She wants to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest or the resonances as you speak. Farah simply can't get enough of you.
Keegan - It's really you teasing him because Keegan isn't one to really get flustered or deviate from his infamously neutral expression. Much. Until you came along. You two are relaxing in bed and you're the one randomly calling out, "Hey, Kee-Kee," to which Keegan makes the most surprised and disgusted face in response and you're wheezing.
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aupoe · 1 year
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Nighttime stress
Pairing: Keegan x F!Reader. Warning: Nsfw, Somnophilia, Porn with plot, Breeding kink, Body worship, Praising, Pervert Keegan, English is not my first language, Keegan is a simp for us, Nakadashi, Obsessive Keegan.  Words count: 3.5k Pic credit: @/callsignmint on tt
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Keegan knew he was fucked. 
Waking up in the middle of the night with his cock painfully brushed against the top of his pants. The tip was leaking precum forming a wet patch that could easily be noticed without the lights even on. There was so little stimulation that with each shifting of his legs, Keegan let out a deep groan from the way the cotton pressed down harder on his sore, redden, sensitive tip.  He swore he could cum right at that moment when the fragments of the dream slowly pieced together in his brain. You looked so gorgeous, wet and inviting as Keegan felt his cock twitched at the thoughts. 
Being a gentleman as he was. Keegan usually scrambled to the bathroom to jerk off with his little fantasy about you. Hands going up and down in frustration in hope to recreate the feeling of having your cunt wrapped tightly around his member, squeezing out each seed Keegan only had for you.  Sometimes he let his cock get the better of him, making him just start humping onto the pillow as his eyes rolled back into his skull from pleasure. 
But how could Keegan control himself when the first thing he saw while sitting up was your soft, peaceful body next to his. 
Wearing only panties and his shirt which hung onto your body for dear life because of how tiny you're in comparison to his figure. The sight was so inviting that Keegan gulped down his watery mouth unconsciously. The sleeves were pulled down onto your forearms as your left breast spilled out and Keegan welcomed the sight of it very very much. The bottom of the shirt was pushed up, revealing your tummy that he constantly kept his hands on for no particular reason. He loved the texture, the softness so much that it became his stress ball once he got home from work. Oh to be able to hold it right now, Keegan could faint from the pleasure.
He let his eyes wander before moving downward, staring at your thighs and the little panties that worked its best to keep your cunt from spilling out the side. Those thighs that he repeatedly requested to lay on or even better, squished between now were bare for only him to see. He remembered the time when he could kiss them, bite them, show them his love and desires as he held you down from squirming away from pleasure. It was and will forever be his greatest achievement, marking you up with bites after bites, kisses after kisses when your eyes rolled back into your head, tongue stuck out so he could lean in and kiss you 'till his heart content. 
All those horny thoughts only worsened his condition right now as Keegan felt his cock twitch violently. He groaned as he moved slowly to sit up on your left.  He watched as your chest raised up and down steadily, taking in as much air as you wanted, completely oblivious to how hot and bothered your boyfriend was. That face, that innocent, peaceful face, Keegan swore he could just jerk off to your sleepy face with no issue and smeared his cum across your puffy lips, or maybe tried to push them. In which, your hot tongue would obediently licked his cum off his fingers and sucked on them greedily like how he always praised you for. 
In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of multiple strings snapping while leaning in closer to your unconscious body. Keegan flicked his tongue, letting out a string of curse words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It's almost like you had him under a leash, like a damn horny dog he was. The more he tried to reason with himself, the more the situation got worse. 
You also want this, right? 
He knew how your brain worked. How many fanfictions you had read about this scenario. How you talked about it with great interest and hid your phone away when he tried to take a peak. He was a gentleman and forever would, if you asked nicely, with your eyelashes fluttering and a reddened cheeks, he would pin you down, kiss your knees and give you the pleasure you always crave for. But the fact that you tried to keep this side hidden from his naked eyes made him even more furious. Maybe it's just the way his horny brain worked right now but for the first time, he felt scared. 
Why distance your true self from him? 
Was he such a terrible lover? 
Has he not showered you with enough love?
Or maybe he was that bad of a fucker that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him? Was his dick not satisfying you enough?
Therefore, he promised to worship you better tonight. Or just to have a reason to fuck you dump tonight. 
He was shaking when he leaned down closer to your face. Keegan could barely brush your cheeks or hair like he normally would, not because you’re fragile, a porcelain doll like how you would call you, but in fear of waking you up. Keegan swallowed his saliva before pressing his lips on your forehead. He could feel the heat inside of him quickly transfer to your body when his lips connected to your skin. Gosh, he wished that he could spread the heat onto your skin, making your sweats dripped down to the bed, rolling out of your chest as Keegan held you closer to his chest.
Trembling, he moved down onto your lips. Keegan sealed your lips away with a tender delicious kiss. He wanted to push his tongue in, dance around while pushing his saliva in and watch them trickle down from the corner of your mouth. That was his greatest pride. Yet, he let out a hiss as he forced himself to lean back, holding back his desire, dumping them down his throat in order not to wake you up. He was in so much pain, yet for you, he would suffer for eternity. 
As he moved downward, planting various feathering kisses like how you would tease him every time to your neck, collarbones, each of your breasts, tummy, navel. He swore, your skin was so soft that he wished to bite down and mark every inch of your body, taking in the sensation of having your legs around his back, caging him and edging him to go deeper and deeper. You were his drug, his addiction and he would happily comply. When his mouth reached your black panties, Keegan bit down onto the middle and pulled the polyester down to your kneecaps while keeping his eyes on your face, stopping every so slightly when your eyes twitched. Keegan took the black panties in his hand, rubbing the fabric like second nature only to find your slick covering his fingers. The moment his eyes laid on the sight, air quickly escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp. The wet, sticky substance heightening his sense along with the bulge that greedily grinds against the bed sheet as he pocketed the panties for later.  His cock was already dripping wet, precum leaking from the top as he wished it was your hot watery mouth that wrapped around his dick, rather than the cold sheet on both sides of his thighs.
“Fucking hell…” Keegan slurred, shaking his head to keep himself focused on the task. He trailed quick kisses from the feet to your inner thighs. His strong biceps that he trained for hours on end now served its greatest purpose, to hold your thighs apart so he can taste your alluring cunt.
Keegan brought out his tongue, giving your folds a kitten lick before blowing air into your cunt. He watched as your body shivered and chuckled to himself. You’re so hopeless and it’s feeding into his brain, nurturing the desire to fuck you dumb, using you like a cocksleeves exactly how you would beg him to. Keegan thoroughly pushed his index and middle fingers through your puffy lips, he tugged and turned so that a  good layer of your saliva could be seen once he drew his fingers out. With his left hand, Keegan formed a V shape with his fingers to spread your cunt apart, taking in the sight your walls contracted, matching his own breathing rhythm. Keegan pushed his fingers in slowly and your hot, humid walls immediately responded to the sudden invasion by squeezing him harder, making him suck a breath in, almost whimpering due to how delicious your tight hole was milking him in. 
With his fingers scissoring in, stretching your entrance out, his tongue lap around the clit, circling, sucking and biting down on it just to see your body tremble from pleasure. He drank on your juice, letting it drip over and covering half his face while he fucking his tongue in, lapping on every juice that spilled out of your pussy. He made himself a thirsty man, dumb on drinking you up like his finest meal in the middle of the night. Keegan was mesmerized by the taste, salty but yet so sweet like how he had always daydream about. His icy blue watched as your thighs shaken, as he was reaching his own climax. He held both your legs open, keeping his left hand on your thigh, the other holding down on your stomach, pushing it downward as his thumbs rub against your clit. The deeper his tongue reached, the rougher he became and a rhythm was found with his hip thrusting into the sheet underneath him. 
Until he noticed that your walls were clenching more so often that he pulled himself out of you. Keegan wanted you to cum on his cock, not tongue for tonight. Huffing, he looked down and to his surprise, his cock slowly sprang up again, slapping against his stomach as if he didn't just leave a trail of cum shot on the bed a second ago. The white trail led from his knees to almost reaching your cunt. While he was familiar with the sight of his transparent, almost liquid-like cum dripping down from your cavern, to see how thick, chunky and white it was tonight could explain how long he had went without your pussy milking him to the verge of tears.
As much as Keegan wanted to eat you out throughout the night, he, himself, could not control the itching and soreness of his cock, having to cum dry as he gave it a few strokes. Hissing ever so slightly, teeth clenched together each time his thumb touched the angry tip. With a quick, smooth stroke, he pushed the foreskin downward as it stood in its glory. The member was a combination of length and thickness, with a pink mushroom tip and a little bump in the middle that could deliciously brush against your G-spot everytime he pushed himself deeper, or bottomed out. 
Keegan knew that his size was larger than what you're used to, it's proven its power every single time he can get his cock inside of your tiny, small, delicious little cunt. Keegan made it his life long mission to make you feel good on his cock, and only on his. He would whisper praise after praise as he had nothing but sweetness to offer you while his hand ran down your body, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, addicted to the feeling of your skin spilling out between his fingers. 
Carefully, Keegan lined up his dick with your entrance, his left hand spread your cunt out for him as he watched himself sinking in, slowly disappearing into you. 
“Agh, fuckfuckfuckfuck…..” Stream of curse words fell out of his mouth as the tightness and hotness of your cunt made his brain freeze. The contrast between the cold bedroom and your warm walls result in a speechless Keegan. He fell onto his forearms on either side of your head while biting his lips in an attempt to keep himself silent. He knew how his whimpers and moans did to you, and he was afraid that you might wake up to the sight of him so sensitive that he could not push himself any deeper inside of you. 
Keegan sinked his weight down on your body, pushing it deliciously against the mattress when the heat of our body sent electric shots to his brain.  Thus making him clench down on his teeth, face buried into the  middle of your chest. His lips opened and closed, kissing and sucking the spot lightly as he rolled his hips until he finally felt himself  fully inside you. His angry cock throbbed, he could feel the veins brushed against your humid pussy, making you clench down even harder. In which, making him feel even more dumb and horny. 
His pace wasn't slow, yet wasn't fast as a result of his mixed up brain. On one hand he wanted to brutally fuck you stupid, while the other was scared that he could hurt you. 
He slowed down, bottomed out and pulled his cock out only to witness the of your cunt getting oh so attached to his dick that your meat was dragging off outside with a loud ‘pop’, as if begging not be departed from his cock. Keegan immediately slammed back in without hesitation as he slurred. Mouth watered as he pushed himself forward to trade some of his saliva with yours, mixing them up like cocktails in your mouth before slurping them back down his throat. 
Keegan got himself into a rhythm of just bottoming out, slamming in that he found himself lost in pleasure yet again. The pace got rougher and rougher as he pushed your body upward, back arched up like you were inviting him to destroy your inside. You accommodated him so well, so responsive that he suddenly felt doubt that you're faking your sleep. Because how could you possible asleep with how he was fucking you right now. The room was filled with skin slapping sound, your cunt made a sloppy sound when his dick came back in, the air was humid with the addicting sex smell and the bed cricket ever so slightly. 
His cock continued stretching you out, molding your pussy into a shape that could take in whatever he gave you. Keegan dreamt of rearranging your inside so that he could forever pinning you down and slid your panties off easily like this. His cock would be kissing your cervix again and again. At some point, he was thrilled to think that it might open up widely soon so that he can dump his cum inside while you continuously sucking them in. Your juice overflew, forming a delicious white base around the base of his cock as he watched your cunt flutter open for him. While the tip was teasing your cervix, his little bump in the middle was doing its magic while constantly stimulating your G-spot. Sometimes, he caught your moaning and panting. If he was the person 5 minutes ago, he would slow down but now, he would love to take that risk. Maybe the sight of you waking up to the sudden soreness of your core, eyes filled with shock then shifted into the back of your head when he slammed back in, rocking your body backward had him giggling to himself like a madman. 
His cock exited and entered thus his thrust became more and more sloppy. Keegan could feel his climax in the back of his mind as he held you closer, one hand on your back, pressing your chest onto his as he pounding on your faster and faster than before his cock vibrated violently inside of you. 
"Agh… yes yes, t-taking me in so well, sweetheart. You're so good~... " Keegan slurred as his seed, thick and creamy, spilled out of his cock started to fill you up, painting your wall luscious white. He rolled his hips a bit more, despite his exhibition in an attempt to keep all his semen in your small and tight pussy before pulling out. His hand caressed your tummy as he felt it swell from how much cum he stuff you with as he leaned down to kiss it.
"Oh, fuck fuck so good, so goddamn good" Keegan hissed as he tried to regain his compulsory and release your body reluctantly. The way he laid you down so gently was a great contrast to the man that pounded on you like an animal minutes. But Keegan was so wrong, thinking that this might be the end because the moment he saw your cunt made a slurp sound before dropping globs (?) after globs of semen onto the mattress got his dick hard again. 
"Fuck this shit, you did this on purpose right?  Got me fucking under your spell right, doll?~" He groan, a moan of both frustration and pleasure as he hold your body up, turning your around. Your face was pushed into the pillow and his arms pulled your ass up for him. The sight was so lewd and he was fucking glad to be the only one to witness your body getting destroyed without you noticing. How could anyone imagine that the tough, cold, icy soldier was such a whore for his lover at night? Drinking in their sight or maybe kissing the foot that they step on him. 
His cock throbbed back alive as the sight registered into his brain, transmitting the horny sensation back down to his dick. Giving it a stroke while leaning downward, Keegan kissed your cunt. His tongue moved carefully to collect off the dripping seed in order to push them back inside of you again. He took a big suck in your clit, leaning back not without releasing it with a big, vulgar 'pop'. With one hand holding your ass up, Keegan gathered his saliva and spit on your cunt as well as his cock. He tapped your entrance with his tipped lightly before sinking back in. 
" ‘m-… god, you're still s-so tight doll" Keegan groaned as he held you by the tummy. His head buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling every single scent that you offered him, the other snaked around to hold onto your hip. 
This time he didn't feel shy anymore as he start his pace strong and forward. With each slapped of his balls against your ass, he could feel the bulge on your stomach reappeared and disappeared. His hand pressed down on it more and more aggressively as the pace picked up. 
His semen and your juice now join together in your tiny cunt that he loved so much. His dick glided effortlessly in and out, yet, didn’t exclude the power and strength. Each thrusts brought out a delicious moan from you that made his brain go mush so completely. Though your body had grown familiar with his animalistic thrust, the juice wasn't, as it still flowed out of your holes each time he went deeper. It glided down from your inner thighs to the sheet, or maybe just dropped down like rain. Either way, the sight only fed into Keegan's mind, edging him to manhandle you more often. 
Because would you look at that? Your body was so weak and fragile, pressing against his abs and solid build. He flipped you over and carried you around like a doll while your face remained the pure and naive look, getting more and more horny the more he kissed your cervix with his dick. When you rapidly squeeze around him again, Keegan rasped and pounded as deeply as possible, mouthing at the crook of your neck, kissing all the previous marks that he left on you when he got home. His cock tilted up as he readjusted himself so his hip had the best angle to get you dump. Drools dropped down from the corner of your mouth as the spine of his dick scraped onto your G-spot again and again.
“Look what a lovely mess you’re for me~” He melted on top of you as he kissed off the sweat that trickled from his chest to your back, cleaning you off or just coating you with a layer of his saliva from inside to out. His hand around your tummy tightened as he reached his high, hips sloppily thrust in. Keegan let out a cry of satisfaction when another pump of his loads got released inside of you as your body happily sucked them into the cervix.
Keegan breathed out slowly as his eyes went watery from how overstimulated himself was for you. He kissed the back of your neck again when laying you down, spooning you in his hand. Chest touching your back in a position that he deem would protect you from the outside world threats but not to his thirst for you.
Keegan smiled happily and intertwined their legs together, he brushed your wet hair away from your face. His cock still buried deep inside as he mumbled praises after praises in his sleep.
What a simp..
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Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)
For The Weak And Weary
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PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader
SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?
WORDCOUNT: 6.2k
WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.
A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.
And this was entirely new to you.
He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 
But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 
You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.
But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.
If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.
“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 
It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 
He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?
“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 
Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 
Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”
“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”
The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”
“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”
“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 
A stiff silence falls.
“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.
“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.
You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 
Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 
You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 
He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 
When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 
And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 
So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 
But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 
Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 
Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 
In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 
A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.
Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 
How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?
Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 
All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.
How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.
You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 
If only Keegan could see you now.
Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.
Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 
“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 
You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 
“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 
Everything would be done if another city fell.  
Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 
Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 
You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 
Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 
Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.
Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.
“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 
Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.
Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...
When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 
It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 
On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.
Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 
Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 
“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 
The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 
Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.
“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”
The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 
“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 
On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 
Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.
And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 
With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 
You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 
I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 
While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 
It rang a devastating bell.
Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 
Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.
The only love of your life. 
“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 
Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.
The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…
Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 
Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 
“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 
He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 
“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 
You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.
It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.
“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 
Your face gains heat. 
“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 
“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”
“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.
He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 
“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 
Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 
Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 
At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.
So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 
“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 
“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 
The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 
“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 
You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 
Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.
“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 
Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 
You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.
Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 
More than one-thousand miles.
But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 
Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 
Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 
Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.
The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 
Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 
But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 
But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.
You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 
In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 
Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 
The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 
“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 
You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 
Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 
“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 
Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.
“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 
“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 
You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 
“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”
“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 
Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 
“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 
“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”
“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 
“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 
Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 
“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 
“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 
“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 
Yelling is on the other side.
“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 
“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.
…Keegan?
“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.
“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”
“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 
Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 
Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 
Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.
Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 
The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 
Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 
“...Sweetheart?”
His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.
You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.
The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 
“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 
He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 
“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.
Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 
“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”
“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 
His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 
“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 
Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 
The man forces a weak huff. 
“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 
You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.
Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 
Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 
He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 
“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 
You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.
“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 
You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 
The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.
“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”
“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”
You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.
Not to leave again anytime soon. 
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https://twitter.com/DaddyyRough/status/1686385918922661890
this is so john price miguel ohara keenan and webslinger
I HEAR SUM PURRINGGGG
cw: TWT LINK!!, NSFW MDNI!!, f!reader, lazy lazy lazy writing, rough sex, name-calling, pussydrunk men<3, not proofread
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price
"Take it honey, fuckin' take my cock." price pants, groaning once he feels your pussy squeeze tight around his cock, "Yes, yesyesyes," your eyes are rolling back, the only thing you're able to focus on is his thick cock thrusting in and out of your pussy sloowly, "You're so warm, so tight, wanna fuck you all the damn time," his eyes catch the way your lips part when you moan, and his mouth mimics your own, dropping open to moan with you, his eyebrows furrowed, loving nothing more than seeing you fucked out like this
.⋆
miguel
"You needed this, didn't you? Fuck, I know you did... been fuckin' asking for it all day. Needed my cock that bad, huh? That's fine, baby, been needing you too..." Miguel is grunting, groaning under his breath each time he fucks his cock back inside your pussy, barely able to keep his eyes open from the way you feel. "Ah.. ah'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me-" a shiver runs down his spine when he feels his eyes water, and he's suddenly snapped back to reality. Miguel licks the pads of his fingers hurriedly, dropping them to your clit and starting to rub circles on the bud, "Cum for me. Fuckin' cum for me baby, please. Please, I want it,"
.⋆
keegan
"Fuck.. fuuuck," he's grunting, throwing his head back, mouth open as he keeps thrusting into you at this slow pace, "S'good, s'fucking good baby, ah-" he moans along with you, leaning closer to stare at the way you're losing yourself on his cock, "Fucking slut- fuck. Say you love this cock." he has the audacity to chuckle at the way you keep swallowing down the spit gathering in your mouth, his laughter drifting off to a groan when he feels you clamp around him suddenly, "Ah fuck- S okay baby I know you're too cockdrunk to tell me, yeah? Pussy said it for you,"
.⋆
webslinger
he doesn't know where to look. your pussy, that's sucking his cock in, with your slick dripping down the swell of your ass? your tits, that're bouncing each time he thrusts back into you- wanting so bad to just lean in and suck at your pretty nipples, kiss at the underside of your boobs, mark you, claim you-
He ends up looking at your face instead, at the way there's spit dripping down your chin, the way your pretty lips are parted- stuttered moans tumbling from your mouth when he squeezes your throat, keeping you down as he fucks you hard. "Fuckin' Christ. Be good for me and stay down, darlin'. I'll fuckin' give it to you,"
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yeah<33
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graphicpepsi · 5 months
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dizzy (nsfw, mdni)
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OR: when Keegan comes home after a long deployment, you show him what safety feels like again.
You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of keys in the door. It had been months since you heard that sound.
Months since your boyfriend has been in his own house. Months since your boyfriend had held you, months since you had held him. Months since you had looked into those pretty blue eyes.
"Keegan? Oh my gosh I-"
You stop in the middle of your sentence when you see him.
His eyes are tired, and sad- not the lovey animated ones you’re used to. Dark bags are set underneath them. He's still fully equipped with all of his gear. You can tell he's physically exhausted with the way his shoulders slouch, the way his eyes are only half-open. It's a miracle he drove here unharmed.
Before you can say anything else he pulls you into a suffocatingly tight hug, pressing your face into the crook of his neck with a soft hand on the back of your head.
God, how you've missed this man- the smell of his skin, his hand stroking your hair- you suddenly can't fathom the last 8 months without him.
"Keegan," You start to say something but your mind goes blank when he looks into your eyes.
Those poor, hardened blue eyes stare into your big soft ones. You had to search inside of them to find your boy. At a glance, you'd only see the pain of a thousand dead soldiers, the reflection of a dead body or bloody hands.
He sighs, long and hard, his arms still wrapped around you as he presses your forehead against his. It's like he knows you see right through him. It's like he knows you see into him.
Carefully, you take off his tactical vest, sliding it off of him as if he were made of glass. His eyes flutter shut, his head rested against yours.
You do the same with his uniform; carefully unbuttoning it until it hangs loosely around his athletic frame. He lets you slide it down his arms, leaving him in an undershirt and his cargos.
He opens his eyes when he feels you leave him, only to find you kneeling down beneath him to undo his steel-toed work boots.
Finally, you take off his mask. Keegan sighs into your warm hands on his bare face. He hasn't felt that warmth in eight fucking months.
You press a kiss to his chapped lips, softly at first but hard once he tastes your mouth. His teeth clash against yours, his hands gripping your waist with certainty. Like he's scared if he lets go he'll lose you again, and he'll be out on that battlefield for another 8 months.
"God, god I've missed you." Keegan whispers into your mouth.
You kiss him harder in response, hands tangling in the black hair growing from the nape of his neck.
"I love you so much," He practically pants, moving to kiss your neck softly. You run your hands along his arms; his toned, muscular arms that seemed to be three times as big since last time you saw them. You wanted him all over you.
He hoists you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist perfectly. You can feel the outline of his abs against your core.
He carries you like you weigh nothing, his arms barely even flexing under your weight.
You're basically squirming in his arms, struggling to contain everything your body is feeling. Your heart is pounding against the man you've been yearning for over the past eight months.
He's real, thank god he's real, and he's placing you down on the bed like you're the most precious thing he's ever held. To him, you absolutely are.
You're quick to climb on top of him, straddling his hips. He slides his white undershirt off before diving back into your lips, his muscular chest and shoulders on display. You can't stop your hands from scratching at them, leaving little red lines behind with your nails.
He doesn't seem to mind. His hands are working to unbutton your blouse, the outline of your pink bra driving him fucking crazy. You can feel him rock solid underneath you.
You pull your shirt off over your head and let his hands undo your bra, your tits bouncing on top of him.
" 'wanna ride you, Keegan." You whine, grinding down against him. "Lemme ride you."
He would normally laugh at you, saying, "Eager, are we?" or, "Can't get enough of me, can ya?"
But he can't deny that he's just as desperate as you are. He's been dreaming of nothing but you and your body for god knows how long.
He takes his cargos and boxers off, leaving his dick harshly pressing against your clothed cunt. He practically rips your underwear with how hard he tugs it to the side.
You sit up on your knees, lining up your cunt with his dick. It's been awhile since it's been fucked with anything larger than your little vibrator, and Keegan knows that. But neither one of you has a problem with going slow tonight.
You sink down onto him, grabbing his shoulders for stability, digging your nails in harder the further you go.
"Fuck, holy fuck, love," Keegan throws his head back, his adams apple bobbing as he moans at your tight walls encasing his dick. God you feel so good around him, so fucking tight.
Your pussy is pulsing around him, you haven't felt this full in forever.
Keegan uses your waist to guide you, his rough hands sliding you up and down on his cock. Your legs are already vibrating around him, and you're mainly relying on his hands to keep you upright.
He gropes at your tits- soft plush he's missed so much within his calloused hands, running the pad of his thumb over your nipple until it's hard and puffy. He leans forward enough to suck a hickey into one of them, his wet mouth wrapped around the sensitive skin making you even weaker.
Soft little whines escape from your lips as you mewl on his cock, rolling your hips down into him. You swear you're going dizzy on his cock, and god, he's so fucking big-
You can feel your eyes rolling back every time he slams into you, but the firm hand on your jaw tells you to keep your eyes on him.
He's literally fucking you dumb.
"Keegan, 'm so close," You pant into his ear, body threatening to go limp on his dick any moment. Keegan presses his thumb into your clit, (finding it like he'd never left) and vibrates his thumb against it.
"Gonna cum for me love? Fuck, 'love making you cum on my cock."
And that, that sent you over the edge.
Your back arches on top of him as you watch your cum drip down onto his core, the sight filling your entire body with warm static. Watching you finish makes Keegan buck his hips up into you as he shoots his cum inside of you, pressing you down into him to fuck you both through your orgasms.
The next moments are filled with panting, whines and "I love yous," as you both lay down together; him wearing nothing but his boxers and you wearing the undershirt you tore off him mere minutes ago.
What a fucking sight, he thinks; You, face flushed with a fucked-out look, sprawled out pretty for him in his undershirt that made you look tiny. Little drops of his cum still rolling down your red thighs, little hickeys blooming across your collarbone and chest. How did he ever go eight months without this?
He wraps his arms around your waist as he settles his head on top of your chest, nuzzling into you as you softly massage his scalp with your nails.
He feels safe with you- like this is where he can let his guard down. He knows you'll love him at his worst. He knows you'll love him at his best. He knows you love him, and that's what keeps him sane for those long months in the field. Those cold nights without you, those weeks without hearing not even the crackle of your voice on the telephone.
He just wants to protect you forever, make you feel good forever.
But for now, it's you on him, him on you; you and him.
"My girl,"
A/N: first time writing for Keegan P.(ussy) Russ & GODDD is this man FINENEEE. like TILL MY JAW SNAPS TYPE SHIT. thanks for reading i hope y'all liked this onee
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konigceo · 1 year
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keegan has a big dick and he knows it !!! he's so cocky abt it too :( laughing in ur face when you whimper, 's too big, can't take it' he knows you can take him tho n that's exactly why he thinks it's so cute :( even if you tear up n almost sob, you still take him to the brim !!!
speaking of !! as much as keegan looooves fucking u, he loves it when u give him handjobs just because his cock looks bigger in your hand than his :( he also loves it when u drool around his cock, trying ur best to take him down ur throat but it's just too difficult :( keegan doesn't mind though, he loves the sight of you trying ur best to take him all the way in your throat !!
keegan is a little mean tho, n he'll pat the side of your cheek to tell you to take him deeper :( he's still pretty cute tho, n he'll rub your head nice n softly when you take all of his load in ur mouth !! he makes you wait a while before you can swallow tho :( he loves the way your cheeks slightly puff up, keeping his seed safe in ur mouth♡
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witchthewriter · 9 months
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Keegan & Y/N's daughter: ...Dad can I please have some cake from the fridge?
*Keegan sitting on the kitchen counter, not taking his eyes off of the tv*
Keegan: What's the rule kid?
Daughter: *sighs* no cake before dinner...
Keegan: Um, no, that's your mom's rule. My rule ... is make sure you grab me a slice as well.
Keegan: But do not tell your mother I *ever* said that.
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yawnderu · 8 months
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MDNI. p in v penetration, hardcore sex, choking, wrestling, punching, biting, nosebleed, scratching, creampie. Keegan calls anyone younger than him ''kid''.
“Give up, kid.” Your body thrashes underneath him, trying to get out of the rough headlock he put you in. Your closed fist slams against his leg multiple times, only making him apply more pressure, not letting you go even when your nails dig deeper and deeper into his skin.
“Fuck you... cunt.” You barely manage to mutter through gritted teeth, black dots appearing in your vision the harder he chokes you. He keeps your neck pressed against his bicep and forearm, flexing the muscle, sickly getting off on the way your loud gasps and whines ring around the training room.
The pressure in your face grows stronger by the second, loud gasps leaving your lips once he finally lets go, pushing your smaller body out of the way.
“If you're struggling that much, this isn't the place for you.” He spits out, clearly wanting a reaction out of you— and a reaction he gets the moment your elbow connects to his face, putting as much force as you can in hurting him, even if you have to play dirty.
Keegan's rough, calloused hand goes up to his nose the moment he feels warmth leaking down and the familiar taste of iron filling his mouth. He lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head softly and not even bothering to wipe down the blood staining his pale skin, letting it pool around his wife beater.
For anyone else, he'd look oddly unbothered by it, simply looking down at the floor and maybe even regretting being an asshole. For you? You know it's the calm before the storm, annoyance silently boiling inside him, slowly reaching its breaking point.
He licks his blood-stained lips before looking down at you, lifeless blue eyes simply staring for a few seconds, letting the silence linger simply to make you nervous.
Stubbornness and something else brew inside you the moment your eyes drift down, noticing the way his pants are tightening up, the outline of his thick cock showing more by the second. It's a subtle glance before your eyes meet his, yet by the annoying smirk on his lips, you can tell he knows.
You're stuck in a staring competition, refusing to give him the pleasure of letting him intimidate you the same way he does to everyone else. Keegan's stare may seem cold, yet you can see fire dancing in his baby-blue eyes, slowly coming to a breaking point. His lips crash against yours seconds later, rough hands opening your legs wide enough for his burly body to fit between them, his clothed hard cock rubbing against your pussy.
“Fuck you.” You repeat, pure venom in your tone despite the way your lips immediately go back to his. Keegan's tongue wraps around yours as his hand goes down to the hem of his pants, pulling out his cock with ease and laying it down on your stomach.
“Fuck me?” He whispers, letting out a dry chuckle at your vigorous nod. You don't need to look down to realize just how big Keegan's cock is, feeling the weight and warmth of it spreading all over your stomach, not protesting even when he rips your shorts and panties off of you, leaving them hanging on your ankle.
“Yeah... fuck you.” The way you're as stubborn as a mule even when he can see your exposed, sopping cunt almost makes him laugh, yet he doesn't need to be told twice. His leaking tip rubs against your folds, your slick and his precum mixing for a few seconds before he lines himself up, entering your needy cunt with a hard thrust. Your moans and gasps are silenced by his lips, barely even giving you time to get used to his meaty cock before he's slamming into you, shoving himself as deep as possible.
The disagreements you had in the past are slowly being pulled out of your brain with each hard thrust, silently surrendering as your velvety walls clench around him, the lewd sounds of muffled moans and your wet cunt being roughly fucked form a symphony, bouncing off the walls of the empty training room.
“This what you needed? To be fucked stupid by a big cock?” Keegan's sarcastic tone leaves you breathless, another whiny moan leaving your lips when his hips slam faster against yours, his meaty thighs ramming against your ass. His hands grip your waist tightly as he hammers into your needy cunt, short nails digging into your flesh with an intensity born of his own desires.
“Fuck— I'm sorry, kid.” His pathetic excuse of an apology is clearly fake, leaving you confused until you feel his teeth sinking into your shoulder, muffling the deep moans leaving his lips the moment he can feel his muscles tightening up, moving faster and harder inside you. You let out a pained groan, nails sinking deep into his muscular back, dragging them down in an attempt at dealing with the overwhelming sensation of his fat cock hitting your cervix over and over.
Keegan is about to pull out before your legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer and closer until he lets out a deep grunt, hips stuttering as his cock throbs, shooting endless ropes of thick cum right into your needy, tight walls, making sure to shove himself as deep as possible while your cunt instinctively milks him dry.
His heavy body collapses over yours, trembling with the aftermath of your intense encounter. His heart races in his chest as he basks into the sensation of having empty balls and a warm body underneath him— despite the way your palm is connecting with his ribs harshly.
“Get off of me.” Your protests go ignored, letting out a loud sigh when you hear snores right against your ear.
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rowarn · 10 months
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afab!reader, keegan fucking up into you, creampie <3
for the anon who wanted keegan content after PLM 🫡 i didn't forget about u
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there was something you absolutely loved about being pressed against keegan. When he was laid back against the bed, you in his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you and pinning your chest against his. 
you were already drooling against his bare shoulder from the way he was slowly rutting his hips up, his feet braced against the bed so he could get the most leverage. his blunt nails bite into your skin but you hardly even notice the burning sensation. 
“fuck,” he finally speaks, that deep, raspy voice sending heat straight to your core, “needed this. needed you all fuckin’ day.”
“kee…” you can’t help but whimper, lashes fluttering when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside. 
you don’t have the room or movement freedom to look between your bodies to see the mess you’re making all over him but you can feel it. you can feel the slick slide of your thighs against his hips and you can hear the gooey, sticky noises that your pussy makes when he slides inside you. 
your clit rubbed against the firm plane of his stomach every time his hips met your ass. you were jostled, easily rocked to his rhythm and you loved every second of it. 
“so sweet,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “bein’ so good for me.”
you keen under his praise, heat flushing to your cheeks when you involuntarily clench down around him. you know he feels it too, in the way he grunts and chuckles under his breath.
he adjusts his grip on you and you barely even have time to prepare yourself before he fucks up into you hard. 
you yelp when the tip of his cock knocks against your cervix. it hurts but it’s not anything new – keegan’s got a nice, long cock and you’ve come to enjoy that sweet pang of pain. 
he shushes you softly when you cry out but he doesn’t hold back. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and underneath your cries of pleasure you can hear the wet sound of your cunt swallowing every inch of his cock. 
the sounds he makes are quiet, easily missed under the volume of your own cries but you hear them nonetheless. and they’re lovely. keegan isn’t very vocal so you soak up any little sounds he supplies you. you’ve dreamt of pinning him down and riding him until he has no choice but tho cry out and moan for you. but you know that’s just a pipe dream because keegan is always in charge and has more self control than you think one could ever have. 
it just made the sounds he gave you all the more precious.
another thing about keegan was his unbelievable stamina. even supporting your weight, doing all the work to fuck his pretty cock up into your sweet little cunt, he wasn’t even out of breath. you were a mess – panting, moaning, drooling, and crying from how well he fucked you. every thrust was well-aimed to that gooey little spot deep inside you that only keegan was able to reach. 
pleasure fogged your brain, with your pussy stuffed nice and full, getting fucked just right and your clit grinding against him with every movement, you couldn’t even think properly beyond him. his name fell from your lips like a mantra, music to his ears. 
“g-gonna cum,” you manage to babble out between pleasured huffs. 
“i know,” he grunts, hand cupping the back of your neck in a firm grip, to keep you pinned against him. he loved the feeling of you drooling all over him, fucked nice and dumb all for him. he knew your body like the back of his hand, recognized the sweet breaks in your voice, the tight, wet clutching of your cunt, and the way your pretty body trembled and twitched in his hold. 
“keegan!” you cry, raking your nails down his skin as your feet kick up and slam back down to the bed, the stimulation becoming too much the higher you’re pushed to your orgasm. 
“yeah, baby,” he grunts from effort as he fucks you deeper and harder, working to get you over that edge, “i’m right here, babydoll. go ahead and cum for me, fuck.”
and you do. 
clutching at him and crying out in pure pleasure as you cream a sweet little mess around his cock. he imagines pulling out and seeing your cum covering his cock, imagines making you get on your knees and clean him up as thank you for fucking you so well. the image makes him moan, his own eyes rolling back in his head. his cock twitches and throbs in the heat of your twitching pussy and before you even come down, he’s filling you with his load. 
getting to creampie you is a  nice little reward for working hard all day and coming home to you <3
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lxvvie · 9 months
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It's the little things, Part I:
It's the way Price blushes as you cover his face in kisses. He's seen and done it all, stared down the barrel of a gun more times than he can count, but nothing will ever quite throw the Cap'n off his game more than the way you show and tell him that you love him and that he's damn good at what he does.
It's the way Gaz exhales and feels all the stress leave his body. His head rests comfortably on your lap and your fingers ghost over the wrinkles on his forehead. He was only away for only a week and a half but it felt like an eternity. Gaz leaves the work behind in your embrace, closes his eyes, and it's the best damn nap he's had in a while.
It's the way Soap whines and leans into your touch as your nails work shampoo and miracles on his scalp. Oh. That's new. You do it again. Same response. You tease him about it later much to his chagrin but it's just one of many things that endear him to you. And amuses Simon if your text messages are any indication.
It's the way Ghost is trying not to laugh when you blow raspberries on his stomach. Apparently, you made it your life's mission to get a reaction out of him every time you did it, and when you finally succeeded—he said it was a cough but that's bullshit—your eyes lit up and it was the cutest fucking thing to him. Victory looks good on you, sweetheart.
It's the way Alex relaxes and his eyes flutter close when you kiss the side of his mouth. It's the way he softly murmurs, "Boss...", you murmur, "Babe..." in response, he groans in faux exasperation, and you thank whoever heard your prayers that he's safe in your arms again.
It's the way Alejandro lets his guard down and silently brings you into a hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and your arms squeeze him back as tightly as you can. It's one of those moments where you can feel the weight he carries in the tension in his body but it's also a reminder that just as he watches over his men, you'll always watch over him.
It's the way Rudy leaves you speechless as he tilts his head ever so slightly as he listens to you talk, and when you realize what's happening, he laughs heartily and it's your turn to be flustered. What would you do without him?
It's the way Farah leans her head on your shoulder, respite from the burden of leadership. It's the way you lean your head against hers and she feels safe all over again.
It's the way Keegan looks at you, intentional in everything he wants to convey without uttering a word. Still waters run deep, and you'd be a fool to ever doubt the things he feels for you.
It's the way Roach smiles, wide, goofy, and boyish, things he can be when he's with you. It's the crinkle around his eyes reassuring you, and it's as if your worries and fears have dissipated into nothingness.
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2kiran · 3 months
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hiii hihihi 🫶🏽 got two things
first off, your blog was like my whole reason. honestly. idek how to put it, your writing is immaculate and if i’m gonna be completely honest i joined tumblr cuz of you lol, i don’t think that there’s like any better top male reader blog than yours icl. ‘preciate your writings a lot 🩶
second, if you can i do have a request; harddom!m!reader is asleep but wakes up to sub!keegan weakly bouncing on and cockwarming the reader, with some overstim + a lottt of orgasm denial, so much that keegan passes out and they both fall back asleep together. oh yeah, and the amount of times he’s denied orgasm we carve tallies into him (knife kink omfffhg). pretty much it !
may i also be ⛓️‍💥 anon?
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2knote. hello?? thank you so much. I’m very honored, you’re wayy too kind for this. and yeah, absolutely. ⌖ RATED XPLICIT 18+
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Awakening to a familiar heat, snug and slick, it has blood rush south of your body and thicken your cock with veritable, unadulterated desire—Wait, what?
You jolt, the action met with a breathless whimper and calloused palms land on your chest. The veil of tranquil slumber lifted, rapidly clearing the murk which had formed in your brain. Your eyes snap wide open, a ragged gasp tearing itself from your throat.
“What the—” You inhale, gaze adjusting to the darkness and soon trailing to the area in between Keegan’s thighs. His hips never paused, lacking strength in his grinds that are too weak to be proper bounces, to be anything. “—fuck are you doing?”
The male in question, Keegan, shamefully mewled upon registering the scratchy rumble of your hoarse voice. He clenched, pornography-worthy in how he’s so fucking tight, and he knows it. He takes advantage of the sweet, promising grip of his hole to greedily take all of you in for his own pleasure.
“I’m sorry,” Keegan whines, rolling forward, your tip nudging his prostate. “Ngh, I n-need you, I–”
He’s interrupted by his own moan, husky and wanton. He breathes out, slowly, his hole peppering kisses along the bulging veins of your cock in abrupt, wet squeezes. His thighs tremble from having to keep himself upright, legs aching as he raises his ass to ride you, only for you to bottom out when his knees buckle.
“Stop.”
He stiffens, his puzzled brain glueing the missing scraps of his intellect together as he fumbled to submit. Keegan’s pupils dilated, pinkish hue dusting his cheeks pretty, and he anticipated with bated breath. His mouth fell agape, senses consumed by the primal function to take what you offer him.
The sensitive head of his cock sobbed with lust, the entire length glistening with arousal. “You’re not cumming ‘till I say you can,” you announce with a hum, shifting to reach for the knife by the nightstand. It was originally intended for precaution, though it wasn’t necessary when you’re entirely protected by the man drunk off your dick.
But with the newfound alternative, it’s used more than it should be. “You got it?”
Keegan had the urge to cry out in frustration. He’s been so good for you, so patient. You should—no, you have to give him what he wants. He doesn’t have an ounce of true brattiness left in him to tell you that, his response a simple nod.
His eyes catch onto the swift movement of you twisting the handle in your grip, the known material like daily clothing now. “Answer.”
He gasps in surprise, goosebumps lapping feverishly at his skin. The warning is immediate, a press of the side of the blade against his bare thigh, the steel freezing and sinister. “Y-yes.”
Yes, but, a train of thoughts driven by desperation begins to rule his mind, I’m so fucking close. I need you to fuck me, not this. Damn it. Outwardly, his eyebrows are drawn together in an angered line.
You hum a light tune, Keegan’s expressions—ones of filthy nature—are comprehensible notes you can play even if you aren’t a musician. Unceremoniously, the knife is angled to the inner side of his thigh and you plunge it in without further consideration. It eagerly breaks skin, his leg jerks and he yelps in surprise, causing the weapon to draw a blood-dotted slash.
“Ahhng- fuck! Wh..what?” Keegan cries out, the pain a suffocating bandage that seizes his form within a death-guaranteed clutch. It hurts, overriding the separator of agony and rapture. You thrust into him, effectively quieting him down to a gasp. “Shut up and fuck yourself on me, yeah?”
His bottom lip quivers, his hands cautiously roam your build until they curl around the framing of your shoulders. God, the emotions stirring in his marathon-beating heart makes it all too easy for him to obey, to have him move his hips like a mutt.
Keegan leans forward, and you tilt your head off the side to offer him access. He takes it, nuzzling his cheek against your neck. The puff of breath he releases is shaky, wobbly as though he was willing himself not to cry.
Mustering up the vitality, he rises until his entrance is swallowing the very tip of your dick. Something heated crimps in the depths of his guts, twisting in compressed knots that threaten to unwind.
It intensifies as he flings himself down, dragging out a raspy moan of “Hmmng-!” with letters of your name added in-between pathetic grunts. He greedily takes in your length, his sudden clenching earns him a long groan. “C’mon... do it. Ride my cock, Kee.”
That was a threat. He whimpers, his head swinging side to side, “I’m, I’m gonna cum. Please, fuck.”
Whick!
Beside the new wound, you swing the knife along the pure skin. The cut is deeper, and he nearly screams.
Thick, red fluid oozes out, gruesome beads sticking to the steel. Pre-cum drips from Keegan’s slit, his hips grinding forward to maintain the contact, the friction burning away the discomfort. “What did I tell you?” You wrench a hand into his hair, yanking him back. Your teeth descend into a particularly sensitive area on his throat, sucking in an angry marking.
His hole reacts to your borderline aggressiveness in rhythmical spasms, ones that tell you he’ll tip over the edge. It wasn’t his fault he was close to bursting any second. You’re too mean, never allotting him the time that’ll grant him recovery.
And he has too many blood that he’ll let you waste.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
“Hagh... nnmm...”
There’s a feeble ringing in Keegan’s head, the deprivation of flowing life pumping inside of him drowning out anything ever-rational. Your own legs were tainted with a rather disgusting combination.
Harsh lines were indented into the strong layer of his inner thigh, sticky fluid pooling beneath him. A barrier of haze was trapped in his brain, resulting in him losing track of the amount of cuts you’ve inflicted on him.
Has it been four? Six? Perhaps nine?
A mortified wave sweeps across his features. He feels like a cheap, good-for-two-dollars whore.
Yet it feels so fucking good. The risk, the hefty lust blanketing the both of you—all of it. Your release steadily leaked out, a creamy sheen surrounding the base of your length.
A weak moan is what he’s only able to free when the blade sinks into him again, inches dividing the weapon from his core. He’s aching to the point he’s past pleasure, tears streaming down his cheeks as he falls limp against you.
Keegan has been wrapped around your thick cock for longer than he ever has, and he hasn’t cum once - until your rough hand coils to squeeze his shaft, wrist working up and down into slow, calculated strokes that rush him to completion. “Fu-uck, thank you, nfghh shit, t-thank you.” He groans, long and almost a desperate growl. Arousal zaps up his muscled, scarred back lightning-quick.
Hot, blinding white clasps its iron-grip on his wet dick, pearly strands finally, finally shooting out and his rim clenches down tight around you. But you don’t relent. Not yet.
You tug and tug and tug him through his high, forcing him to choke on a split whimper. “Too...” he exhales, torn between rocking into your palm or shoving himself away, “t-too, hfmm, much.”
It aches. His body tightens, tension hinged at his joints and locks until he’s aching. This time, he doesn’t anticipate it when it arrives. He quakes violently against your form, eyes rolling back into his skull, soft sobs echoing throughout the space separating the two of you. “Take it. You can handle this much, can’t you?”
He whines, the sound weak in volume. Your palm is continuously coated with slickness, smearing the wetness each time your stroke reaches the narrow entrance, pressing on it firm enough to reward yourself with his almost-pained grunt. Keegan squirms, attempting to worm his way free from your intoxicating grasp.
God, fuck, his dick is so sore from your torture. Darkness dots the corners of his eyes, his vision beginning to swim. The sensation of your hand clenching around his length fades, disappearing into the void of his blank-state mind. He faintly senses himself twitching, cum splattering on his thighs and on you. With one last exhausted whimper, dreamless fog consumes him entirely.
You set aside the knife, the item in your hand replaced by a towel. Your thumb circles mindless patterns on his nape, rocking him to sleep. Wiping him off, he stirs slightly.
“Hmmm?” He mutters, consciousness slipping into him again.
“Go back to sleep.” You shush, cleaning yourself up before you toss the dirtied rag away and gently lay him next to you.
Keegan nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. A tired, gentle smile rests on his lips before he whispers; “G’night.”
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casiia · 11 months
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༉‧₊˚. — KEEGAN p. russ; just a massage.
warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, female reader, prone-bone, speed bump, female anatomy, slightly unedited.
.: masterlist.
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keegan who has your stomach pressed into the mattress, his thick thighs straddling the back of yours. his calloused hands are slipping under your shirt and you have to remind him that it’s just a massage.
he claims he knows, and says that your clothes are getting in the way. so you let him remove your shirt, his thumbs putting pressure on the spots that you complained about.
and when you moan into the sheets, he pushes down on you harder. arching your back into the bed and pressing his aching groin against your ass.
keegan keeps one hand on your back, keeping you still while his other one yanks down your pants.
you’re whining and squirming under him, knowing where this is going. you voice that you’re tired and too sore for this, to which he just coos and teases his index finger into your tight hole.
he’s mumbling into your ear — “i’ll take care of you.” “i’ll make the pain go away.” and he sounds so genuine, so needy. he’s slipping another finger into you, a cocky smirk on his face. you were so wet for him and he starts to think it’s because of the way his hands squeezed you, traveling down your skin and groping you lower down your back than you intended for.
your thighs squeeze together, and you have a pillow covering your face, muffling the moans that uncontrollably spill from your lips as your orgasm approaches. keegan only shakes his head at this, pulling his fingers out and holding you down.
you’re whining again, pleading for him to do something. he squeezed your hips apologetically, although his voice feigns any sign of sympathy. “you know the rules, bad girls don’t get to cum.”
and you feel tears run down your cheeks, exhaustion and an uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach. you beg for him to help you, make you feel good so you can go to sleep.
how can he not listen to your pleas, he can’t just leave his girl in pain. so he’s leaning over to press kisses to your shoulders, his hands massaging at your lower back. you’re crying under him, the pain from your muscles almost too much to bear.
but suddenly his hard cock is slapping against your folds, smearing your juices in between your thighs. his fat tip nudges your clit and you gasp, your hips pushing back into him.
he allows you to do so, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. keegan’s mumbling almost incoherently about how he’ll take so much care of you, make you forget about the pain, and fuck you so good you’ll fall asleep.
you hope that he keeps to his word, the feeling of his girthy cock slipping into your tight cunt makes you forget all about the pain that ran through your body. he doesn’t stop until he’s pushed all the way inside of you, the only thing you can focus on is the way your walls stretch to accommodate his size.
his chest is pressed against your back and you can hear his shaky breath, his kisses the top of your head, saying that it’s gonna be okay, and you’re gonna feel so good. he can’t help himself when you’re begging for it again, needing him and his touch.
so he’s thrusting into you at a pace that is no longer as sweet as his words or kisses. his head dropping into the crook of your neck, he’s pushing himself so deep inside of you that your brain goes all fuzzy. the only thing on your mind is keegan and how he’s stuffing you full.
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AN: quick lil drabble cuz i hurt my back sooo bad yesterday and i've been thinking about this. someone lmk if this is ooc for keegan, i was kinda nervous to post this!!
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rainybubbles · 5 months
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What hug COD men would give you ?
Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Keegan
(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)
G H O S T : Comfort hug.
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You always used to jokingly ask Simon, "Want a hug?" knowing how much he detested physical contact.
He'd always respond with a firm no.
It became your way of greeting this burly soldier, a ritual of sorts.
So why... why was he now whispering those words to you?
"Need a hug?" His voice was hoarse, raspy, bearing the marks of too many cigarettes and too much silence. Yet there was an unexpected warmth in it, a warmth that could thaw you.
"No." you said.
Cold and trembling, with lips turning blue and tears welling in your eyes, you were at your breaking point.
It started with a soldier's criticism, then your chief's belittling of your work, followed by a letter from your mom, a malfunctioning oven, and a stubborn onion. It all culminated in your retreat to the cold room, seeking solace, seeking release.
But the door was jammed, leaving you alone in your despair. What a pathetic demise for a cook. Yet Ghost, ever watchful, came to your rescue, finding you in your distress. And in that moment, he echoed your jest.
"Need a hug?" he repeated.
You nodded. He knelt beside you, gathering you in his arms, offering not just his warmth but also solace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
"It's okay."
"The lock, it—"
"For everything."
"Do I look that awful?"
"Yeah."
"You're supposed to say no."
"Not a liar, darling."
"Not a hugger either, but here you are."
"You're the exception, I suppose."
You were.
What you initially thought were mere circumstances now seemed to hold a deeper truth.
And the next day, when you initiated your ritual greeting with "Need a hug?" Simon's response of "maybe" signaled a shift in your dynamic.
________________________________
SOAP : "I'm home in your arms" hug.
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He always gives hugs.
Soap is a very physical person; you knew that even though you were just a friend of a friend. You never dared to speak to him much, too shy. He seemed like a sun.
At gatherings, you were always quiet, so you weren’t sure if he remembered your name.
But he always had his eyes on you, always had his hug for you, and when nobody listened to your ramblings, he was there asking you to continue.
It was a silly crush; his hugs were something you secretly enjoyed. A thing, a treat for your heart, even though you knew it wouldn’t be more.
So when you opened your door, expecting it to be the delivery man from something you ordered online or maybe some important packages to sign, but…
You got bumped into.
You fell with the strength of the stranger’s hug until you recognized the mohawk.
“John?”
“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, helping you up.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the one who needed a place. Mancy asked you, right?”
You remembered.
Mancy had asked if her friend could stay at your place for one week.
You didn’t know it would be John.
“Oh, yeah.”
“You don’t seem happy.”
“Well, if you hug me so hard I’ll fall every day, then no.”
He chuckled.
“It’s because I’ve missed you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, after three months without your pretty smile, a man goes insane.”
“My dad lives just fine without it.”
“True, but he’s a moron. I’m not. Now give me a hug.”
“Okay.”
And you did.
Gently, you noticed his hands around your waist, the way he slowly soothed his breath.
You didn’t know, but the only thought Johnny had in mind was, “I’m home.”
____________________________
GAZ : "I'm sorry" hug
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The TV droned on in the background, but your gaze couldn't focus on it. Your stomach was tied in knots, and you felt utterly lost. 
The argument had been trivial, blown out of proportion by fatigue and frustration. You and Kyle were both drained, and the clash of tempers only fueled the misunderstanding, escalating it into a full-blown confrontation.
Now, you found yourself at a loss for what to do next. Kyle had stormed off for a walk, his usual retreat during tough times. But this time, his absence felt like an eternity.
You knew you could reach out, ask him where he was, beg him to come back. Yet, your stubborn pride held you back.
Was it pride or fear? Fear that he wouldn't return?
The nagging voice in your head echoed the doubts others had planted—that you weren't good enough for him, not pretty enough, not kind enough. You felt inadequate, unworthy of his love.
Your eyes stung with unshed tears, your nose tingling with the threat of more to come. It felt absurd to be sitting here, watching a documentary while your relationship teetered on the brink of collapse.
Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you sat there, watching a documentary you couldn't even comprehend. 
When the door finally creaked open, your heart leaped into your throat, memories of past confrontations resurfacing. But the footsteps that followed were hesitant, tentative.
Turning slowly, you found Kyle standing there, mirroring your own disheveled state. Puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks spoke volumes of his own internal struggle.
Standing up, you met his gaze, unsure of what to say or do.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the silence that enveloped you both.
"Me too," you replied, your own voice catching in your throat. "It was foolish of me to let my anger get the better of me."
"I agree," he murmured, stepping closer. "We need to find a better way to communicate, darling."
"Yeah, and maybe get some sleep," you added, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
"Definitely," he whispered, extending his hand towards you.
You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed him to pull you into an embrace. In that moment, words became superfluous as you both sought solace in each other's arms, tears mingling and laughter bubbling forth.
"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.
"Me too," he confessed, his grip tightening around you. "But being with you makes everything better."
"Agreed," you murmured, snuggling closer.
"What if..." he began, his voice trailing off.
"What if what?" you prompted, lifting your head to meet his gaze.
"What if we can't sleep because of the neighbors?" he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, what about them?" you replied, confused.
"Let's move out," he proposed, his eyes earnest.
"Kyle, we live in separate apartments," you reminded him, a hint of skepticism creeping into your tone.
"Then let's get a house," he persisted, his gaze unwavering. "A place where it's just you and me, lost in the forest. Our sanctuary."
"You're just saying that," you countered, though a flicker of hope ignited within you.
"I mean it," he insisted, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want a life with you, everything included. The silly arguments, the morning wake-ups, all of it. I don't want to wait to see you, but I also don't want you living on base. A house... it's us, it's safety, it's peace, it's..."
"Commitment," you finished for him, the weight of his words settling in your heart.
"Yeah, that too," he admitted, a shy smile gracing his lips.
"Okay," you whispered, a surge of emotion welling up inside you.
"Really?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Yeah," you confirmed, squeezing his hand.
He enveloped you in a tighter embrace, and in that moment, you knew that perhaps this sorry hug was the beginning of something beautiful.
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PRICE : last hug
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You felt his embrace, and a smile graced your lips.
“I never pegged you as a hugger, Captain,” you remarked.
“Don’t talk, soldier,” he replied, his voice firm yet gentle.
Nevertheless, you found comfort in his arms, basking in the warmth they provided. Your consciousness nudged you to close your eyes and surrender to the moment.
“Cap, can I rest?” you inquired softly.
“Not yet,” he responded tersely.
“But why? Even ghosts nap during brief,” you persisted.
“Don’t make me spell it out,” he said, his voice trembling, tears glistening in his eyes. 
Confusion laced your whisper, “Why are you crying, Cap?”
As you attempted to step back, you felt something damp on his hands. Bringin your own hand up, you saw it- red, your blood.
Blood.
Your blood.
It wasn’t a mere cut; it was a hemorrhage.
“Why…” you began, your voice trailing off.
“Don’t give up,” he interjected, his tone weighted with understanding.
He knew. You knew.
You wouldn’t last, and the medics wouldn’t arrive in time.
“Cap, could you...hold me tighter?” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.
“Soldier,” he acknowledged.
“Just one last embrace, please,” you implored, a desperate longing for affection evident in your words.
Yearning for one final moment of love.
He acquiesced.
You buried your nose in his aftershave, despite the mingling scent of tobacco. Your arms savored the feel of his gear, your cheek nuzzling against his neck, the roughness of his beard against your skin.
Despite the warmth he provided, a chill crept over you. Your lips grew heavy, your eyelids too burdened to stay open.
“I'm glad it was you, Cap. Your hugs are the best,” you murmured, a serene smile gracing your lips.
With your blood staining his gear and your body cradled in his arms, he granted you your last hug, whispering your name softly.
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KEEGAN : "you're alive" hug
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His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, his ears filled with screams. His eyes focused on Ghost’s voice, and then he saw you, lying on the ground.
What were you doing on the battlefield? You were a civilian. He sprinted towards you, but your body remained still. He reached out for your hands, but they slipped from his grasp.
Nightmare.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. His back was drenched in sweat, his mind replaying the image of you lifeless. He couldn’t move.
Reaching for his phone, he knew he wouldn’t believe you were alive until he saw it with his own eyes. He made his way to your shared flat, knocking on your door.
As you slowly opened your bedroom door, relief washed over him. "Keegan, what the hell—" He cut you off with a tight embrace, his hands on your neck feeling the rhythm of your heartbeat. "You're alive."
"Yeah, obviously. You saw me just two hours ago, we're roommates, Keegan."
"You're alive," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion.
Seeing his state, you melted into the hug. "You need to sleep."
"I can't."
"In my bed, you can check if I'm alive like this, okay?"
"I don't want to—"
"Keegan."
"Okay."
Slowly, he settled into your bed, your warmth comforting him. You worked on your laptop, but he didn't mind. His arms wrapped around your body, he could feel the steady beat of your heart. He knew it was his favorite sound because it meant you were alive.
"Sleep well, Keegan."
"Thanks."
And that night, he didn’t have any more nightmares, wrapped in your embrace.
If you want more : my masterlist
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pear1escence · 5 months
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Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
Keegan p. Russ x fem!reader - explicit
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Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…
⭒ Late night car rides, driving around town with American oldies playing on the stereo, a cig in your hand nd his gaze shifting from the road to admire you every so often.
⭒ He’s not much for fancy dates, but he loves going out on walks with you. Strolling on beaches in the evening, loves it when you wear pretty skirts that flow with the wind. You might find a nice spot to put down a couple beach towels, share a bottle of wine and some home baked goods.
⭒ The warmth in his veins from the wine combined with your pretty face, he can’t resist kissing you. He’d pull you into his lap, his hand buried in your hair as he kisses you deeply, those delicious groans slipping from his lips as he does so.
⭒ Wouldn’t do beach sex. Sand getting everywhere, eugh. But in the car??
⭒ He’d have you riding him in the front seat, shirt pushed down, lips around your nipple, hands on your hips. He’ll bite just to hear you yelp. Can’t shut up either. He’s not shy of being vocal, groans a lot, the deep, sexy kind of sounds that has your stomach doing a flip.
⭒ Pretty average in length but his cock is thick as hell. Stretches you out so good. Hairy everywhere. Chest, thighs, nether regions. Yum.
⭒ Compliments you a lot, tells you just how pretty you look taking him so well, how good you feel. “Yeah, that’s it babe” “You’re taking it so fuckin’ well, doll” Curses a lot too.
⭒ Ok enough of that😾
⭒ He owns the comfiest, softest tees, the perfect ones to throw on in the morning with only a pair of panties underneath. You’d wear them a lot when he’s gone.
⭒ He thinks of you a lot when he’s deployed. Tries not to, he gets sad thinking of you alone.
⭒ Hugs you so deeply whenever he returns. Those comforting, safe hugs along with murmurs of how badly he’s missed you. Buries your head in the crook of his neck nd strokes your hair softly.
⭒ His heart breaks for you when he sees you cry. He’ll immediately forget about whatever he’s got on his hands. He’ll sit you down and wrap one arm around you, his hand lifting your face towards him as he asks you what the matter is.
⭒ Projecting my daddy issues onto this poor innocent (not) man very hard right now. Pls god I need him so bad
⭒ “Oh, my sweet girl” he’ll murmur, voice low and tinged with sadness, he’ll pull your legs over his lap nd wrap his arms round you tighter.
⭒ He’s very much not the perfect boyfriend, even though he wants to be.
⭒ He has his issues, struggles with PTSD which causes him to be very closed off. He hates opening up, sometimes it’s like there’s spiked wire wrapped around his throat when he tries.
⭒ He rarely seeks you out when he’s down. He can be very avoidant, scared he’ll blow up on you without meaning to. If he does come to you, he won’t talk.
⭒ He almost slumps up from tiredness, prefers it to be in your bed with your fingers drawing slow circles along his back, sweet words of affection nd loving kisses to his head.
⭒ He hates getting angry with you. The Ghosts are far from soft on one another, the rough atmosphere within his team has sometimes traveled over to you as well.
⭒ He’d never lay a hand on you. Never. But he has regrettably raised his voice at you a few times, when he’s really mad. The fear in your eyes causes him to pull back though, nd he’s quick to leave out of guilt.
⭒ He wouldn’t want you to worry for him, shoots you a couple messages about needing to blow off some steam before he takes a long drive to try and clear his mind.
⭒ He’s heavy with guilt and shame once he comes back, very soft with you in the days following.
⭒ You see the guilt in his eyes whenever he looks at you, hear it in the repeated ‘I’m sorry’s he gives you.
⭒ Why did I make this sad all of a sudden. I’m telling you I need to stop projecting my issues onto pixel men😞
I’m not gonna reread this so apologies for any misspelling, this has to be the first time I’ve posted in months?? I’ve been busy wasting time on stan twt 😖 Note - if you liked the angsty part towards the end I have a longer fic with a similar concept, ‘I miss what you’d do to me’
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