#keegan p. russ x female reader

[velvet-paradox]

Smooth

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x Female reader Summary: Keegan enjoys shaving you nice and clean and taking you to pound town! Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, explicit content, strong language, established relationship, oral (f receiving), soft dom!Keegan, shaving!kink, fingering, pussy slapping, unprotected p in v, dirty talking, pet names, new daddy!kink, praise, detailed smut. Tagging: @synnersaintaint @catswithabsoluteclownery @mykneeshurt @macravishedbymactavish @rimbut-t @notap1e

ENJOY!!!

It's hot.

Keegan is a stickler for routine, likes the discipline, the patterns, the control. He'd lose it if he didn't join the military when he did, take on more than one task a time before he picked up the next mission, the next project. He couldn't sit still for long unless he was truly into what he was doing.

And speaking of…

The project at literal hand was a delicate one.

No messing about, no distractions even though you couldn't help but move an inch higher. He'd scolded you twice now, giving you those piercing blue eyes and peeked eyebrow.

He clicked his teeth at you like a horse, raising your calf.

"Kitten please hold still, I don't want to slip."

"You think I can help it?"

"Kitten please. You're doing such a good job and we're almost done so don't you start pouting and being a bad girl now." Keegan's voice held no bite even though he was stern about it. "You want your reward don't you?"

He moved his fingers then sending a white hot jolt through up your spine.

Carefully Keegan ducked his head back down between your legs, kneeling on his cracking knees, eyes narrow and lazer focused on the task at hand which was… shaving.

Keegan was a grown ass man, he didn't shy away from knowing what he tasted like. He had you lick your own flavor off his fingers, off his cock more times than you could count. While you'd had other partners, they didn't appreciate an after kiss so when Keegan grabbed you after shooting his load all over your tongue and lips, willing licking inside your mouth as he kissed you hard and fast left you dizzy.

He didn't care about pubic in general, if he was lucky enough to get laid, who cared? He really got into that whole Vajazzling craze, rhinestones and safe glitter. Then he was on to the next and full on into waxing but there was just something so intimae about him being on his knees for you, worshipping your body, treating you with such care, he really enjoyed. Stroke after stroke, your pussy would be revealed. Soft and smooth.

You didn't mind at all, less of a chore for you anyways. Since being with Keegan you barely lifted a finger to do anything around the house, his or yours. No more twisting and squatting, no more Charlie horse cramps. No more stray hairs left behind, he bought a replica of the straight razor he used on his face. It was cleaner, faster and he knew exactly what to do with the blade.

"Fuck look at you, cutest fucking pussy." Keegan groaned, moving your skin as he slowly dragged the blade against it.

"Love it when you shave my pussy, baby. Gets me so fucking horny." You hum in return.

"Yeah? Like me revealing and exposing your pretty little cunt just for me?"

"Mmm yeah."

He tapped the little bucket with it, your short and curlies disappearing, he wiped it off cleanly. A warm washcloth came next, wiping you down. He had all of his things neatly around him, a little cup with tepid water splashed against your mound, catching little remnants.

"Turn around, kitten. We're in the home stretch now baby."

You shivered and got up from his bathroom vanity, bending over, sticking your ass out with a little sway of your hips.

"Hold yourself open for me."

Fuck. You bit your lip.

He finished shaving your pussy, the feeling of his breath on your newly bare skin, front to back as incredible. You'd never get over the feeling no matter how many times he tended to you.

Keegan waited on hand and foot for you. You'd catch yourself lost on it, how a hard man like Keegan P. Russ could be soft for you, sweet on you, brought you flowers, ordered take out when your period came so you wouldn't have to be bothered to hobble and cook and fuss over the stove.

He waited until you turned off the shower before stepping back into the bathroom with a fuzzy towel. He wrapped you up, drying you off little by little until he walked you both into his bedroom.

Completely exposed and naked, you sat down on his bed, dropping the towel to your collar.

"Let me see my handiwork, princess."

Like he'd never seen your cunt before, he stood at attention at your feet as you leaned back, the soft towel slipping down your shoulders, pooling around your hands and waist. Keeping your eyes on his as they raked over your naked body you moved one leg, then the other. "Best fucking pussy. Look at that." Keegan groaned, giving in and palming at his crotch.

"You wanna' taste it now?"

Keegan tore off his ghost mask before getting rid of his shirt, the jangle of his belt sent shivers down your spine. He grabbed his thick rod of a cock in his hand, jerking himself off, teasing himself little by little, stepping closer, eyes on your cunt.

The bed creaks with his weight, fitting himself between your legs, moving down to lay on his stomach, a snipers' position as he loops his arms around your thighs. You fit the balls of your feet on the hard, trained muscles of his shoulders.

Keegan is good. Too fucking good.

His hands are large and ghost over your bare flesh, he rubs his chin along your mound, breathing you in with a groan. He spreads your labia, chuckling lowly when you grind your hips up.

"Now now kitten, no need to be hasty. You'll get your reward."

"Keegan please."

"Begging only makes it worse," Keegan cooed and gave your hip a lingering, searing hot kiss. "Be a good girl for me, okay sweetie? You can do that can't you?"

"Yes. I'll be good."

"Do you promise?" Keegan sang, dropping his voice even lower, using his sexy bedroom tone.

"Yes baby I promise, just… it feels so good when I'm all clean."

"I know kitten, I know."

Keegan licked at you, kissing your clit lightly in between hard flat presses, quick sucks and pulls on your sensitive lips. He brushed the bridge of his nose along the underside of your clit, enjoying himself as he devoured you. The sounds he was making were pornographic and lewd. He sat up just a little, angling his face just right to spit on your pussy only to indulge in slurping it right back into his mouth.

"Fuck baby that's it. I love it when you do that," you moaned and reached for his head, tugging on his hair as you arched your back.

"Makes me so fucking wet."

"Yeah? You like that?" Keegan did it again, moving his face and mouth back and forth, back and forth over your engorging bundle of nerves. You cried out and Keegan smiled against your cunt.

"Yeah!"

Keegan chuckled. "Good girl. My good girl loves to get her little pussy eaten out, huh? Yeah you do. Fuck kitten, tease my face."

Your gasp at his vulgarness made him even more eager to please you, wiggling his thick fingers along the apex of your thighs, digging into the meat of your thighs before prodding around your hole.

You grip his hair even tighter, letting him take his time with you.

Getting you wet, satisfied little laughs that left you breathless as you wiggled and arched. In between kisses he likes to look up at your through his thick lashes, watches you unravel as you try desperately to stay still.

"You're so fucking pretty, atta' girl. Should I get my tongue in there or fingers first?"

"Fingers."

"Just my fingers?" Keegan hummed. "Or you want my mouth too?"

"Both. I want both."

"So fucking smooth." Keegan kissed everywhere but your clit after that, leaving it to throb, making you clench around the two fingers he's slipped inside you, massaging your walls. Twisting and curling them to find that soft, spongy little shell that would make you scream, make you cum.

"That's so good baby, a little faster."

"Faster? Needy little kitten." Keegan chuckled lowly, dragging out his fingers, teasing your clit with a few precise circles and presses. He tapped it a few times making you squeal. Reeling back he gave your pussy a nice little islap. Bare and all those nerve endings shocking your system. Noticing how much you enjpyed that little hit he did again and again, another string of his spit slipped between your folds.

You could feel yourself leaking for him.

"Fuck yeah baby."

"A little love tap never hurt anyone. I want you to cum, I want you to cum all over my fingers and my face. You look so pretty when you're all fucked out."

"So do you." You whined as he started to finger you again. You weren't lying, for a big cold hearted handsome man of his caliber and weight, he made the best sounds. Moaning in your ear how good you were, how warm you felt, how inviting. How beautiful you look, how sweet you taste.

How good you taste together.

"Yeah? You think Daddy's pretty?"

Wait.

What?

You swallowed and licked at the drool coming out of your mouth before you sat up, eyeing his icy blues, taken aback as you'd never called him that before. You were met with a growing smirk.

"Are you going to answer me, kitten? I said; do you think Daddy's pretty?"

God the way he said it, it really made your heart race.

"Yeah," you drawled and cupped his jaw, watching how his eyes shifted and his mouth open. "I think Daddy's real pretty."

"Fuck." That seemed to do the trick because Keegan was suddenly on top of you, kissing you hard, biting into your neck as he slipped a calloused hand between you, fingering you so deep and fast it made your head spin, moaning like a real whore.

The sounds of your wetness, flooding around his thick fingers, drenching his palm as you squealed and thrashed, clawing at the sheets was out of control. Keegan groaned deeply as he watched. You could always feel his eyes on you, in the hall, in briefings, in bed.

"Christ, you are so fucking wet. Do you hear it, kitten? Do you hear yourself? You're gonna' make such a mess, gonna' have to change these sheets."

"I'm gonna' cum."

"Tell me baby, say it. I need to hear you say it."

"I… I…"

"Yes? You what, baby?"

"I'm gonna' cum. Make me cum, please. Oh Daddy, I'm gonna' cum, cum for you."

Somehow he got you even wetter, three fingers curling and getting you off until you came with a shout. Your legs trembling, shaking at Keegan's waist as you gasped and reeled from your high.

"That's my girl, takin' those fingers real deep. So fucking pretty kitten, good job. Daddy's kitten did so good, look at you." Keegan praised and kissed your chin, taking a tiny bite of your smooth flesh before slowly pulling them out of your hole, whining as you felt empty.

"Fuck Keegan."

"Ah ah ah," he slapped your tender pussy twice making you jolt and squirm. "Get it right or you get nothing else. I could make you watch me jack off instead. Maybe I'll jerk off in front of your pretty little face, shoot my load all over it."

"No! I want you to fuck me. Please Daddy, I'm sorry. I won't call you Keegan again. Please."

He hummed and smeared your arousal all over you mound, splitting his first two digits into a V shape, rubbing around, up and down your clit. "You just want to cum again."

"Yes I do but… I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me," you huffed and grabbed at his shoulder, pawing at his trained muscles.

"Don't you wanna' fuck me Daddy? Fuck your kitten's pussy wide open. Make me gape."

"Fuck, you say the nicest shit baby. I supposed if you put it that way," Keegan agreed and gave your hip a little pinch. "Get on your knees and hold on to that headboard."

….

Your man is nasty. He has a thing about spit and cum, the only two fluids he's at all interested in. He spreads your cheeks and the spit that hits your asshole is hot, and he's hot and your hanging your head and growling behind you teeth. He fucks you hard, reaching around your hip he finds and holds on to your pussy, fitting his fingers to spread your lips open, caging in his thrusting cock.

"Feel that kitten? Daddy's thick cock is splitting you in half. You are so amazing, look at you taking my cock like this. Good job baby, good fucking job."

"Oh Daddy, you feel so good." You keened as the headboard continued its' rhythm of banging into the wall behind it. Good thing you were at his place, your neighbors would be knocking your door down or calling the police. Which has happened. Just the once.

"Oh I know kitten, feels so good for me too. Best fucking pussy."

Keegan smacked your ass and then he was hunching over you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back, not even slowing down.

Then his hand was on the back of your neck, pushing your head into the bed.

"Good job kitten, you're gonna' take all of it, ya' hear me? What a good girl you are taking Daddy's cock, what a good little slut for me."

Keegan moaned your name, pressing his mouth to your ear as he kept up the pace.

Words you lost on you the longer he fucked you, a new flood of wetness rushed through your core, milking him, sucking him back in over and over until all you could was shout into the sheets.

"What's that, kitten? Daddy can't hear you." His bicep came up and around your chin, in a chokehold as you panted and cooed and drooled.

"I want you to cum inside me," you sobbed, feeling his muscles shift under your jaw. "I wanna' feel you, feel you fill me up. Please fill me up, Daddy. Fill up your kitten."

Keegan chuckled lowly, almost menacing in your ear, sticky like honey and just as sweet. "You want it? You want Daddy's thick cum? Yeah you do and you're gonna' fuckin' get it."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

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

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*

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. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[konigsblog]

plugs

keegan russ x afab!fem!reader ...

warnings: female anatomy, female titles, plugs, praising, mentions of pregnancy, blowjob, cockwarming, cunnilingus, keegan is a munch!

kinktober masterlist (day 29)

Your back arched, panting and left breathless as he pulls away from your drooling cunt. Your hole aches, raw and throbbing from Keegan's rough pace. He chuckles lowly, pushing the diamond plug inside your hole to plug his potent cum inside you.

“Gotta make sure my cum stays inside, not a drop...” Keegan leans back, admiring the mess. He holds your thighs open; caked in cum and slick, wet and sticky while you look at him dizzily, your eyes halfway shut. He grunts at the sight, smacking his tip against your clit, leaning down to lap over it.

Your hole is full, stuffed with a plug, sucking and licking at your visible clit, making you shudder and sob and shake due to another orgasm pooling at your cunny. “Wanna see ya' swollen. With my babies.” he smiles at you, sucking at your clit harshly before manhandling you.

He stands up, your back against the mattress head tilted off so he can throat fuck you. He eases inside, gripping at your titties and groaning out when he pushes fully inside your mouth. Keegan's fingers toy with the plug, rubbing your clit while fucking and thrusting against your mouth sloppily. You cry, weep and whimper around him, especially when he rubs his wet thumb against your sensitive, greedy nub.

With your pussy full and wet, he smacks his broad hips against your mouth, his fat and girthy dick thrusted down your throat. “Wanna see ya' pregnant...” he gasps out when you tighten your lips around him, a visible outline of his cock in your throat. He groans, rubbing your clit and watching you tighten your thighs. Moaning around his shaft while the head of his girth smacks against the back of your throat, spurting thick and hot seed down your throat.

You pant when he looks away, pulling the plug from your cunny, his sticky seed oozing out and coating your thighs. It runs down to your asshole, milky white cum, sticky when he runs his fingertip against your glossy and slick slit.

He definitely made you clean off the plug while eating his cum out of you, his tongue curled inside.

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (1/?)

A word before we start: screaming sounds a whole lot like laughter.

Nothing beats the paranoia of a high man. Rough, calloused hands shove you into the dark wooden closet, whisper-yelling orders to keep your damn mouth shut before the though of protesting could even occur inside your little drunken head. Everything is spinning inside around the room, too focused on the light sensation in your head to be able to connect the dots until it's too late.

“Listen, man, we don't have anyt—” Life can be unpredictable. One moment you're having fun with your friends in a rented cabin in the woods, and the other, your best friend is being shoved into the floor by a much bigger man, the loud sounds of his shouts and struggling instinctively forcing you to put a palm over your mouth, trying your best not to scream along your dying friend.

A quiet whimper makes its way out of your throat the moment a long, bloodied machete is raised in the air, horrified wide eyes meeting yours as the panic fully sets in for him. It's like seeing a trainwreck yet being unable to stop watching, even when your brain is screaming at you to close your eyes. To save yourself from the trauma, to protect your psyche, to let the last image of your best friend be him alive—

Hack.

The masked killer lands heavy blows one right after the other on the figure underneath him, blood splashing all over the room, forcing another muffled whimper out of your lip as the man hacks away at your friend's dead body, seemingly getting more and more excited with every single new wound he's forcing.

The house is quiet— way too quiet for a group of 5 drunk people. You were previously in the bathroom, too preoccupied throwing your guts out in the bathroom to hear any noise through the loud gags and the ringing in your ears. The man's heavy breathing fills the room, making you subconsciously hold your own, not wanting to get any of his attention and be his next victim. They say ignorance is bliss, yet not knowing if the man is aware of your presence only makes the black pit of dread grow in your stomach.

His movements are slow and calculated, letting go of your friend's mangled up corpse, the sound of the machete being pulled out of his flesh almost makes you gag, secretly thankful that you emptied your stomach earlier. Baby-blue eyes scan the room with a precision that almost seemed robotic, instinctive, like a predator who has always succeeded at catching his prey.

Your heart goes down to your stomach when his cold gaze connects with yours through the thin wooden blinds, masked head tilting to the side in what seems to be sick amusement. He inches closer to you, his footsteps surprisingly quiet for a man his size, eyes crinkling up with his pupils dilating quickly, black almost taking over the pale blue.

His gloved hand raises slowly towards the doorknob, maintaining eye contact with your tear-filled eyes— only for his head to snap up towards the sound of a crack on the wooden floor coming from the kitchen. He gives the closet one last look before running towards the sound, the sickening sound of your friend's blood and guts dripping down his machete and clothes following right after him.

Thrashing and more screaming is heard from the other side of the house, snapping you out of it enough to realize it's your only chance to escape the same fate your friends met. Your shaky hand twists the doorknob slowly, not daring to look at the dead body right in front of the door— the body of someone who died just to protect you.

A shaky whimper escapes your lips when you accidentally kick the limb corpse, shaking your head a few times to snap out of it before you move away from him, staring ahead with an unfaltering sense of dread eating you from within.

Your steps are wide and calculated, sobered up the moment the masked killer started attacking your friend right in front of you. From what little you can see thanks to the moonlight seeping through the windows, the entire place looks out of a horror movie, blood staining every single wall, dripping down at such a slow pace that it almost seems like it's God's way of taunting you.

Relief finds place into the pit of dread the moment you can see the entrance door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe again— like you're not leaving behind any of your friends who may have survived the brutal attack. Guilt has no place in survival, you convince yourself within seconds as your shaky hand reaches for the doorknob, only to be slammed against the wall, a gloved hand covering your mouth to muffle the bloodcurdling screams that leave your lips.

You thrash against his rough hold, earning nothing other than a much harder hair pull, only stopping your thrashing the moment you feel cold metal pressing against your throat. Your eyes close as tears fall down your cheeks, pooling on the soft fabric of the gloves of the man holding you against your will.

“And where the fuck do you think you're going, hm?” He turns you around forcefully, pining your body against the wall with his own, tilting his head to the side just to taunt you as his sharp machete presses harder against your neck. His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, teasingly spreading your friend's blood all over your cheeks, forcing a choked sob out of you.

“Aww... Now you're all quiet. Poor pretty, broken princess...” His tone holds nothing but fake pity and pure amusement, sickly getting off on your pathetically horrified expression. His body presses against you harder as he looms over you, only leaning down to press his masked face against the crook of your neck, not bothering to hide the way he's inhaling your smell as the back of his gloved hand keeps absentmindedly running over your cheeks in an action that would be soothing, had he not been the man who killed your loved ones.

“I'll let you go.” Your breath hitches at his words, not believing him for a single second— not when you can feel his boner pressing against your stomach, his hips subtly rubbing against you to get more friction while he wonders if it's truly worth it to let you go instead of sending you home in a box.

“But you say a word about this to anyone... and I mean anyone, princess, and I swear to God, I'll gut you like a fucking fish.” His words take a bitter tone after he calls you princess, though the hold on the machete softens slightly as he hears your choked sobs, knowing the only thing preventing you from nodding vigorously like a well-trained dog is the blood-bathed steel pressing to your neck.

“Yeah? Do you promise?” The machete is moved out of the way, yet he still keeps you pinned against the wall so you don't try to run away. His pinky finger is raised up to your face mockingly, giving you an expecting look that takes you a few seconds too long to understand. Your shaky hand comes up to his, intertwining your pinky with his in a childish promise, a whimper leaving your lips the moment he applies enough pressure to make it hurt before releasing you.

He moves out of the way after a few tantalizing seconds, nodding his head towards the door, watching you scurry away like a kicked puppy, his entire body itching to go after you— and deciding against it last second, knowing he'll be seeing you soon.

[NEXT]

Author's note: The art published in all chapters belongs to @moosch!! We're both very excited about this project and to expand on something we've been talking about almost daily for months, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we do. <3

[etclouie]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 them + their opinions on hickeys

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: innuendo towards sex, mentions of giving and receiving hickeys

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 includes; john price, simon riley, kyle garrick, soap mactavish, alex keller, alejandro vargas, rodolfo parra, phillip graves, keegan russ and makarov (x fem!reader)

prev | next - drabbles masterlist | main masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ price - i feel as if price loves them, if they’re above the collar and the 141 sees them he’ll kinda just shrug them off. sure, he wants discretion, but if see his girlfriend get happy from marking him up then he’s all for it. 

seeing his girlfriend all pretty and covered in hickeys makes his day, he loves it. if he’s home from deployment when the weathers warm and he sees you in one of those pretty sundresses, he’ll be adding to the already fading hickeys across your body. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ simon - he’s 50/50 with hickeys. i feel as if it fully depends on his mood for hickeys on him, he’s either fully for them or fully against them. either way, as long as they’re hidden it’ll make his feelings for them a little better. 

if we’re talking about hickeys on your body though, i feel as if it’ll be different. a shriek of possessiveness running through him at the sight of your body covered in hickeys, specifically coming back from a mission to cover you in more of them. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ soap - he loves them, both ways. he prefers giving them but isn’t opposed to receiving hickeys. anywhere he can get his mouth on you, will either end up with bite marks or hickeys. no doubt in my mind. 

but with hickeys on himself, he’ll show them off. likes bragging about his girl back home, who’s just like him. both of you as eager for the other, and it never shuts him up. so with hickeys covering his neck, it worsens his reason to talk. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ gaz - i see him liking hickeys, both giving and receiving. prefers giving them, but he’s not opposed to receiving them. honestly, mutual pinning between you both gets him going, the eagerness of both of you, and the willingness to give hickeys is what he enjoys most about them. 

explicitly talking about hickeys on you though, he loves the sight. if he’s had a rougher day, and comes home to your flat to see you on the couch, cuddled up and wearing one of his shirts and the hickeys are visible - he’s practically begging to give you more. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ alex - i feel like alex is also 50/50 on hickeys, but in a different way. that love he shares with his girlfriend is the key to his Intimacy, so adding hickeys into he equation makes it all the more intimate to him. 

seeing both of you covered in hickeys makes his heart flutter. that joint passion and the evidence of it painted across your skins, it’s something he’ll never give up. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ alejandro - prefers giving them. don’t think he’d ever give the chance to let you give him hickeys, i think he’d allow scratches down his back more than hickeys. not that he’s against them, just honestly prefers to give them than receive them. 

he gets lost in it when giving you hickeys, neck all red from his mouth. becomes hard to dicier the new hickeys from old ones because he’s so eager to give them out. anything to show you as his, he’s not opposed. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ rudy - for rudy, i believe his opinion is different. i think he’d be cautious of hurting you the first couple times, after that i feel as if he’d open up to them a little bit more but still be in his head a little. 

as for you giving him hickeys, he’d reassure you that you don’t need to if you don’t want to, but would be excited if you insisted. the thought of you being excited to give him hickeys gets his blood pumping and his heart beating a little faster. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ graves - i think he’d honestly prefer receiving them than giving them. he gives off sub vibes so being marked up by his girlfriend gets him going, has him finishing prematurely almost. hickeys on his thighs are his weakness, i just know it. 

on the off chance he gives you hickeys, it’ll be brief. mainly happens if you ride him, his hands on your hips ‘helping’ your movements while he kisses across your neck and down to your boobs, sucking hickeys across them and moaning at the sight of them covered in his marks. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ keegan - he’s a giver. if he hasn’t littered your skin with hickeys, has he really done his part? that’s how he sees it at least. hickeys convey that definite that he took care of you, especially hickeys across your thighs. it fuels his ego really. 

on the other hand, he’s not that picky about hickeys on himself. he’ll take them if you’re willing to give them, but he won’t be miffed if he doesn’t have them. whatever makes his girl happy is enough for him. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ makarov - loves giving them. fuels this thing inside him that ‘brands’ you as his, it gets him off even more than it probably should. he adores seeing you marked up by him, and he’ll cover you in more if the original ones begin to fade. 

he’s less of a fan of hickeys on himself, he’ll indulge if you’re persistent on giving him some, but he’ll keep it to only a few. if you give one above the collar where he can hide it though, he’ll fuss and complain but deep down loves it. 

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[tojisun]

he has to push down on your belly when he eats you out because of you’re squirming too much and thrashing hard against his hold. and when you finally managed to ground yourself enough to look at him, you’re blessed with the sight of him looking so amused at seeing you be subdued. he’s all crinkled eyes and flushed cheeks even when he presses his tongue flat along your folds, a low hum rumbling from the base of his throat.

— keegan p russ, aizawa shouta

[myhornysaga]

COD P-Links

Mdni. Links under cut.

Reader x graves

Reader x keegan

Graves after coming home from finishing his contracts/doing war crimes

Becoming a slut when keegan comes home from his month long deployments to show him what's he's missing

Passionate makeout with texan ceo of a pmc and a war criminal aka Phillip Graves

Family planning with Commander Graves

[daisies-daydreams]

Can I request a oneshot where Keegan has a really bad migraine with a fever and the 141 gets a little jealous when Y/N who's a doctor takes care of him

Doctor's Orders (Keegan P. Russ x F!Doctor!Reader)

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Doctor!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Swearing, Depictions of Medical Examinations, Jealous!141, Implications of Violence, Different POVs Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Hello there! I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to reply to your request, but I hope you enjoy it! 💖

You sighed as you stepped into your office, the welcoming sight of your Keurig drawing you towards your desk. It wasn’t the routine medical check-ups that got you…it was your patients. If you hadn’t taken the Hippocratic Oath, you’re pretty sure you would’ve strangled them. One after the other, they never failed to flash you a cheeky grin, throw a wink, or say some cheesy pick-up line. 

You popped a new pod into the Keurig before sinking into your swivel chair. You rubbed your temples as you took a deep breath, the stress melting away as you felt the sunlight pour in through your window. A knock on the door suddenly stirred you from your thoughts.

"Duty calls," you muttered. You sat up straight and maneuvered a bit in your chair. “Come in,” you said. You raised a brow as the door creaked open before a familiar face appeared. 

“Good to see you, Russ,” you smiled as you slid your hand around the handle of your warm mug. Keegan was one of your favorite patients. Despite being curt, he was always respectful towards you. You frowned when you saw his unusually rosy cheeks and a sheen of sweat covering his face. 

“Russ, what’s wrong?” you asked as he sat in the chair across from you. The man’s dark eyes looked strained as he clenched his jaw. 

“I’ve got a killer headache, doc,” Keegan mumbled. “Feel like I have a pretty crappy fever, too,” he added as he folded his hands together. You scanned him up and down. Usually you refuse to see patients outside of office hours…but since he’s not really being a bother… 

You set your piping drink onto your desk before taking a forehead thermometer from one of your drawers. You saw his eyes soften as you stepped over, your white lab coat swaying a bit as you came near him. 

“Let’s have a look-see,” you smiled gently. He nodded, only to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut. You turned on the thermometer before scanning his forehead. You frowned when you looked at the small screen. 

“Well, your temperature is a bit higher than average,” you said. Keegan remained quiet as you pulled out a small flashlight. “I’m going to shine these in your eyes for just a moment,” you said. You examined his pupils, watching as they shrank in the light. “Hmm…doesn’t look like you have a concussion,” you thought aloud as you turned off the flashlight. “Are you experiencing any other symptoms? Shortness of breath? Sore throat?” you asked as you pushed the buds of your stethoscope into your ears. Keegan shook his head as you placed the diaphragm over his sternum. Your brows furrowed as the sound of his rapid heartbeat pounded in your ears. 

“Your heart’s beating awfully fast,” you frowned. You noticed his cheeks darkened another shade of red as you slid the metal piece to another part of his chest. “Take one deep breath for me,” you said as you took a deep inhale. Keegan followed you, his lungs sounding just fine. You hummed before checking his back. You flushed a little at the feeling of his muscles flexing beneath your simple touch. You cleared your throat and quickly stepped back. 

“I’ve had migraines before, but never one with a fever,” Keegan spoke up. You turned your head towards him and nodded. 

“Are you prone to sinus infections?” you asked as you splayed a wooden depressor over his tongue. The man blinked before slowly nodding. 

“‘Tis the season,” he said with a shrug. You chuckled a little before tossing the tool into the bin. 

“Well Russ, if you start to feel worse, come back and see me. But for now, I want you to rest, drink lots of fluids, and take plenty of ibuprofen and some mucus relievers. You can find them over the counter,” you said. Your breath hitched as he suddenly stood up, his chest nearly brushing over yours. 

“Thanks, doc,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he gazed into your eyes. You nodded as you smoothed your hands over your lab coat. 

“Of course,” you smiled with a nod. You walked him to the door, your brows arching as he paused in the threshold. 

“You know, you’re really good to us, (L/N). I’m not sure how us idiots would survive without someone like you looking out for us,” he grinned. Your throat tightened as you squeezed your hands together. 

“T-Thank you,” you mirrored his expression. Keegan gave a short nod, though you found it strange how quickly his demeanor shifted as he walked down the hall. You looked on before slowly closing your door. 

----

Keegan rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Of course his heart was beating rapidly: he was mere inches from the most beautiful woman on base. He whistled to himself as he walked out of the clinic and into the rec hall. He paused in the doorway when he saw the 141 crew staring daggers at him just as he entered. 

“Is there something on my face?” Keegan asked. 

“Nah,” Soap said as he crossed his arms and glanced away. The American man raised a brow. 

“Come on, guys. This isn’t Mean Girls,” he grunted. 

“Then why are you lying like Regina George?” Gaz huffed. Keegan’s eyes widened a little before he composed himself. 

“People can still talk if they have a migraine, Garrick,” he said. 

“Sure, but you’re acting awfully spry for someone who has a fever, too,” Ghost grunted. Keegan’s lips tightened into a straight line. The men around him wore the nastiest glares as he cleared his throat. 

“I got better,” he said as he glanced behind his shoulder. 

“God dammit, Russ. Playing the wounded gazelle gambit? Really?” Gaz groaned. Keegan simply shrugged. 

“Hey, it worked,” he said. The three men’s eyes widened. 

“What?” Soap asked. The American smirked. 

“While the three of you were drooling over (Y/N), I took a more…subtle, approach,” he said. “Simple as that,” Keegan added. 

“Let’s get him,” Ghost said as he cracked his knuckles. The Sergeant held up his hands. 

“C’mon, gents, are we really going to resort to violence over our doctor?” he asked. The 141 silently stared at him as they slowly approached. 

“I guess that answers my question,” he laughed before turning on his heel. 

Epilogue 

“What exactly did you do to get a black eye?” you asked with a worried expression. Keegan hissed as he placed an ice pack over his dark, swollen eye. 

“You know me, always taking a joke too far,” the Sergeant shrugged. He glanced over at the door to see the 141 scowling at him. 

“You poor thing. First you have a fever and a migraine, and now you’ve got a big bruise on your face,” you frowned. Keegan nodded slowly and winced as his eye throbbed. 

“Just my luck, right?” he chuckled softly. You sighed. 

“Seriously, I want you to go back to your quarters and get some good rest. Doctor’s orders,” you said as you pointed your pen at him before writing him a note. 

“Yes ma’am,” Keegan grins softly as he takes the note between two of his fingers. You offer him a small smile as he slips off the examination table. 

“Take care, Russ. And I better not see you for the rest of the day, okay?” you giggled. Keegan’s heart skipped a beat at your bubbly laugh. 

“What if I saw you for drinks this Friday instead?” he asked. You paused as your cheeks flushed a little. You bit your bottom lip as you squeezed the cord of your stethoscope. 

“Depends on where we go,” you said as you narrowed your eyes. 

“Your choice,” Keegan replied. Your face lit up a little as you hummed. 

“Alright, deal. But on one condition,” you said. Keegan’s eyes sparkled as he nodded. 

“Sure. What’s on your mind, doc?” he asked as he straightened his posture. 

“You have to promise to stop pretending to be sick just to come see me, alright?” you said with a wry grin. Keegan’s jaw dropped. 

So much for being subtle. 

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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[ghostlythunderbird]

The Pack ~ The Letter

Pairings: Alpha!Konig, Alpha!Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alpha!Keegan P. Russ X Omega!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors/Ageless Blogs DNI, Omegaverse, Mentions of Anxiety/Panic attack, Ghost and Keegan are kinda mean for this one (Im sorry!), Konig being a big softie for Reader, Mostly Fluff for this one!

Words: 4,437 (Went a little too wild with this one!)

Author’s Notes: Please do not repost, edit, or translate my work. This blog and all content will be marked 18+ even if there is no NSFW content, if you are underage or have no age I don't want to deal with you. So sorry for the long time to update, I'm currently recouping after my hand surgery so ill try and update when I can, it sucks trying to write with one hand XD.

Summary: After being introduced to your new pack, you are taken to your new home or 'Den' at this point. While the introduction part went almost seamlessly, your starting to figure out that these alphas might be a little hard to get along with.

The drive home was nothing less than silent; aside from König sitting in the back seat with you, the two other alphas were quiet. 'Maybe they are the strong silent type.' You had told yourself. While you wanted to ask anything about themselves, you had a strong feeling that you would be told to be quiet by these alphas.

Close to an hour later, the car had come to pull into a short driveway. Looking out the window, the house itself was decent from the outside. A standard brick suburban house, copied and pasted much like many others on both sides of the street. The red bricks and white paneling nearly blinded you as you stared at it. Before you could ponder more on the look of your new 'home' the door on your side opened, The Alpha known as Ghost stood there "Come on, out ya get."

Sliding out of the vehicle you were snatched up by König who gently guided you up the steps to the front door. "Don't worry about your stuff right now, Schatz. We will get it later." Without another word, the front door was finally opened.

Your new home was lackluster; if you googled a Bachelor pad, this would be the definition of one. While there was furniture, it didn't feel as homey as you had expected. The living room was bare other than the oversized L-shaped couch and T.V. stand it faced. Hell, these guys didn't even have a fucking coffee table, of all things. As you further overlooked the room, you noticed the bare white walls. No different colored paint, picture frames, or calendar was hung up.

Just an empty minimalistic house. Perfect for three military bachelors.

As you stepped through the front door, you nearly lost your breath after the mix of alphas scents. The overall musk almost sent you to your knees, through the overbearing scent hints of Cinnamon, Vanilla, Mint, Smoke, and Leather blended in almost perfectly.

 Minutes passed as you regained yourself before you looked back towards the door to find König waiting for you to continue. "Are you okay, Schatz?" His voice was soft as he began to approach you. While you knew his second gender and the horror stories your family had told you growing up, none seemed to fit his character. His sheer size alone would make anyone panic if he approached, but with him nervously clutching his hands to soothe his anxiety. It made him appear much less intimidating and rough around the edges, reminding you more of a large shelter dog being welcomed into a new house for the first time. He wanted you to accept his home, his den, as somewhere you would feel comfortable and safe. 

From Konig's point of view, None of this seemed real to him.

In two weeks, König went from a pack-less and omega-less Apex to not just having his own pack but an omega that he could protect and care for. Everything was a mirage that could disappear should he touch it. But seeing you here before him, nothing less of a goddess, made it much more believable. "If you two are going to have an emotional moment, at least move out of the fucking doorway so people can get into the damn house." Ghost growled out as he passed both of you. Keegan followed close behind, but unlike Ghost, he gave you a blank stare as he passed. 

Looking down towards you, König felt his anxiety rear its head. Your face had fallen and a sour tone began to line your once relaxing scent. as you watched the two alphas walk away from the door.

As wordlessly they came in, they disappeared up the stairs to their shared room. This brought König to sigh heavily as he looked down at you again. "Don't worry, Schatz. They will warm up to you……eventually" He wasn't sure if he was telling you this or trying to reassure himself at the pair's attitude that one eighty once they were back in their den.

He didn't want you to feel they despised your existence as soon as you entered their lives. "Why don't we get you settled? I'm sure you're ready to rest." With the Apex mentioning this, your eyes lit up, and you couldn't help but smile at him. "Definitely; it seems like we all need a fat nap."

Both you and König laughed before he led you up the stairs. Reaching the next floor, he showed you where the single bathroom was and his, Ghost, and Keegan's bedrooms, just in case. At the end of the hallway was the final room. "This was Ghost's room originally, but once we were accepted, we all decided to leave one room open for you. So that you have your own space away from us." Upon opening the room, you were presented with one of the most enormous beds you'd ever seen. Resting on top were bags on bags of not just new nesting material. This ranged from thick fluffy comforters to sleek silk sheets; however, they lacked color.

It was a swirl of black and white with an underlying mix of grey.

It rendered you motionless as you took in the sheer amount, had these alphas gone out and bought you a whole nest and a half of material? You had never heard of alphas going to these lengths to make an omega comfortable. As you looked toward the Apex in the doorway, the anxiety in his posture was evident.

His hands were drawn up to his chest, clutching pieces of his shirt into his hands. He was even slouched forward to lower his overall height to match yours, even with it being impossible without him going to his knees.

"Well, I uh.....I'll leave you to get settled. Just call for us if you need anything." Without another word, the Apex left, closing the door behind him.

With that, you turned back to look at the covered bed before finally moving to clear off the excessive amount of nesting material lumped together. What you thought was an easy 15-minute job turned into 45 simply because your omega was getting too far distracted by the number of gifts she was given.

'Soft and Secure. Alphas are perfect, bringing nice gifts for a nest. The perfect nest for Alpha's pups.' She yipped. You were startled back to reality, god you haven't even known these alphas for a whole day, and suddenly, your omega is presenting herself, begging to be bred by these practical strangers. 'Jesus, you need to focus' Shacking your head to rid your mind of the intrusive thoughts, you attempted to finish your task.

Why would your omega be so enamored even after how the other two alphas seemed to want nothing to do with you?

Once all the material was put away for the time being, you had a yawn slip from your mouth. How long have you been up today? It was well over 14 hours at this point. Why not take a quick break. Deciding to rest, you had walked towards the sorted assortment of nesting materials before you settled on one of the larger and softer blankets. The void color overtook your view as you pulled it from its packaging.

'So soft,' You tiredly thought. After making it onto the bed and ensuring the blanket fully covers you, you finally lay down. Letting the bed hold the weight of your body.

It was quiet as you brought the blanket further up your chin. The only audible noise in the room was the sound of the ceiling fan. You hadn't realized how mentally exhausted you were from the entirety of not just today but the past few weeks. Each blink drew slower and slower until your vision went black, and your mind drifted to dreamless slumber.

~~~~~Flashback~~~~~

The sound of the T.V. did so little to drown out König's thoughts; König primarily spent the little time he had away from his rather dangerous occupation thinking about the 'What ifs' of his life. He was so caught in his thoughts he didn't realize Ghost had come back into the house, his hands full with mail. Most were bills, but one was large and thick compared to the rest.

Ghost placed all the envelopes on the counter before sorting them; the largest was addressed to König. From the Alpha Pack Selection Program. Something that the resident Apex had waited for close to 4 weeks for a response, one that hopefully bared good news. "König." His gruff voice echoed out.

Being pulled from his overreactive mind, the Apex leaned slightly to look at the other Alpha. The manilla folder being held transformed into a brightly lit target to the Austrian sprawled out on the couch.

The large man lunged off the couch, startling the smaller Alpha, who had just descended the stairs. "Jesus, König, a bit of a fucking warning." Keegan couldn't help but snarl after nearly getting run over by the Apex. It was rare for these sorts of incidents to happen in the house; the two alphas and the Apex were incredibly aware of where each was and their schedules. 

König was zeroed entirely in on the envelope in Ghost's hand, while he may have been eager to receive this letter. He couldn't help but fear their answer; after their last response, it would make seven rejections from the program. Each time was for the same reason "Due to your Apex representation, we regretfully have to decline your enrollment to our program." But it still didn't stop him from taking it and tore the envelope open. "well, come on mate, what does it say?" Ghost nudged his arm; the Apex hadn't realized that Ghost had even rounded the corner to stand beside him.

König took in a deep breath before releasing as he unfolded the papers to read the words printed onto the paper.

Dear Applicant,

It has come to our attention that you have sent multiple applications over the last few years. Each one followed with a swift rejection from our programs as your representation would cause an upset in both our application alphas who may be paired with you and in the omegas who could be assigned to your care.

While we appreciate the time and effort you have invested in becoming part of this program, we have concluded that we will no longer accept any future applications from you. However, with this harsh news, we will allow a new application with you, but you must have at least two other alphas willing to become paired with you in a pack. 

This envelope contains four applications for alphas willing to work and be assigned to a shared omega. These applications are only viable for 30 days; afterward, we will no longer accept any attempts to pair you. As well as, all previous information you provided will be deleted from our database.

~ The Alpha Pack Selection Program council 

The silence that surrounded the air of the Alphas was suffocating. Even with the tv playing in the background, it was drowned out by the tense atmosphere. König felt like he couldn't breathe; until a sob forced its way out, and air seemed to flood his lungs again. How was he supposed to find someone willing to pack with him? and within 30 days? No one wanted to be stuck with him, and he hardly knew any other Alphas outside his work. And those he did work with? Most were already packed or swore off mating altogether. 

This was it, his final chance to be accepted. With no potential pack-mates, he would lose his only chance of finding a mate and having pups. The world wanted him to live the rest of his life, never knowing the sweet touch of the omega for which he would lay down his life. To never know the feeling of pure happiness looking at a pup made from his omega and himself. A piece of him that he helped create.

Why? Why. Why. Why. WHY.

He hadn't realized that he was beginning to have a panic attack until Ghost dug his fingers into his shoulder. König could feel his body trembling, rolling off in waves, making his balance waver. "König, mate, you need to breathe," Ghost told him hushedly. Ghost and Keegan shared a look as the Apex slumped forward onto the counter, his head falling forward into his hands. 

Steadying his breathing, König straightened his back and pushed the papers away as they burned him. While his day may have been uneventful, he wished he had never opened the damn letter now. The crushing weight that bared on his shoulders now seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. Looking at the stack of papers, Ghost couldn't help but look at the pages that caused König to damn near crumble before them. 

The words spilled out before he made him sick. Why are they just now sending this? After all those years König spent trying to be accepted in this shitty program and getting rejected every time, they decide now to tell him what he needs to be accepted. Talk about hitting a man while he's down. Looking towards the dark-haired Alpha, leaning against the back of the couch, "Keegan, take a look at this fuckin' shit." While reading over the papers, the smaller Alpha couldn't believe the audacity of these fucking people. All this just because he was a slightly different second gender?

Casting a glance at the large Apex, who seemed to be on the verge of shutting down completely. While Keegan was a hardass, usually, he couldn't help but feel bad for his brother-in-arms. "So they are telling you to find a pack outside this program to be accepted? What a load of crap." His brain couldn't help but reel at the fact they were giving him only 30 days to figure this out; who could even help him now? He paused. Looking between Ghost and König, he knew what he was about to say would either be genius or he was about to be hit for. "What if Ghost and I pack with you?"

König and Ghost both wheeled around, both wearing surprised expressions. "The fuck are you on about? Did you hit your head on your last O.P.?" Ghost exclaimed as he stepped toward the smaller Alpha. "How are we the best options for a fuckin pack?" Keegan took a step backward as Ghost entered his space. 'Fuck, probably should have kept my mouth shut.'

Clearing his throat, "Think about it, Ghost, we're both unbonded alphas who know König the best; hell, we already live with him. And he needs a pack to be accepted. Why not throw us in and see where we go?" The air between them grew tense as the larger Alpha stared at him. "Right, and we're the best choices to take care of an omega; last I checked, neither of us have been around one." Ghost spoke through a tense jaw. As much as he was against being anywhere around an omega, he knew it was the best option between them.

König looked at them both. "A-are you guys sure? I know you guys aren't comfortable with this; I don't want you to force yourselves into this just because of me." The Apex was ecstatic to hear that they would try, but he knew he couldn't get his hopes up with this. There was still the possibility they would all be rejected. 

"If this gets you into that program, I will push for it as much as possible." Keegan calmly stated. The Apex looked towards Ghost, who still looked unsure, giving him a kicked puppy look.

The blonde Alpha signed before giving König a look. "Alright, we'll give it a go. But if they reject us, this Program business stops. Are we clear on that?" König nodded ecstatically while Keegan released a deep chuff. The emotions swept over the Apex so much he didn't realize he had dragged Ghost into a bear hug. "GET OFF ME, YOU FUCKIN MUPPET; Keegan, help me out ere'!"  

~~~~~~

After sending in the paperwork, they got their response two weeks later.

They were accepted.

König felt like he was about to pass out; everything was starting to work out. But it was only the beginning for the newly formed pack. Not only were they a pre-formed pack, but due to their extended military service, they were also notified that they could choose their omega. Hence the giant pile of files on the kitchen table.

It felt like they'd been at this for hours, passing the scent samples for each one to inhale. Each Alpha had the scent samples they liked, but when presented to the other two, it was met with a swift rejection and sometimes with a comment. While some omegas looked good on paper or had a decent scent, the Alphas couldn't agree.

"How about this one? She comes from a wealthy family in Italy, and it even says, 'She enjoys the finer things in life.'

"No, Keegan, It sounds like she'd be more of a glorified brat. Anyone born with a silver spoon in their mouth is nothing but trouble for people in our job."

Or it's a same-answer vote.

"Yeah fuck this one; smells like a Hospital."

"I'm going to have to agree with Ghost on this one. It reminds me of when my mom used so much cleaner in the house when I was a kid."

They thought this would be the easiest part, but they were definitely over their heads. Ghost finally stood up in a rage. "We've been sitting here for fuckin HOURS, and not a single one we have agreed on. Most of them smell like shite too." The Alpha raised his hands and walked to the fridge to grab another beer. KKönig stood as well at the other Alpha's tone. "No one said the selection was easy, and there's only a few left. Let's get through them, and then we can take a break." The Apex pleaded.

That only seemed to rile up the exasperated Alpha more "How the hell are we going to find an omega at this point? We can't agree on a single one?" Both alphas stared at each other "HOW DO YOU KNOW? WE ARENT EVEN DONE!"  

Keegan watched as both alphas continued to argue; their conversation slowly was tuned out as he watched while resting his head in one hand. As much as he wanted to pipe up to aid König in calming Ghost down, He knew better than to get between these two during times like this. Before Keegan could intervene, a quick breeze of something sweet passed his nose, and the Alpha couldn't help but follow it back to the remaining folders. This scent was the best one he'd had all day, so he couldn't help but be curious.

It led him to a file towards the bottom that seemed much newer but was thinner than the other files in the stack. Once he opened it, the sweet scent was no longer teasing him. Taking the scent sample from the file, Keegan couldn't stop himself from pressing it to his nose and inhaling deeply.

It felt like he became weightless for those seconds; how had he not noticed this one earlier? It reminded him of the smell of fresh rainfall, a sweet yet calming scent. His Alpha couldn't help but be drawn to whoever the smell belonged to; without a second thought, Keegan pulled back from the cloth to look at the pages in the folder. Whoever's file this was about was the smallest one he had seen from the entire stack.

The picture attached gave him a view of the person that caught his Alpha’s attention.

You were stunning; His Alpha yipped in delight. ‘Yes, yes! Pretty mate! Must mate, Must protect!’

However, something felt wrong in the picture. Looking closer, the smile that graced your features didn't seem to reach your eyes. Your eyes held sadness and hidden anger that could reveal itself should you choose to snap. As his eyes flickered across the pages, Keegan stored everything he could about you away.

Omega Profile

Name: (Y/N) (L/N)

Age: 23

Sex: Female

Second Gender: Omega

Personality: N/A. Omega and Family declined to file the Omega Attribute survey.

The sickening sound of glass crack made Keegan snap his head upwards; the sight before him was far from good. Ghost and König stood only a few feet apart; the Apex and Alpha had their teeth bared and chests puffed up. Ghost was making his displeasure clear to the Apex while König was getting close to putting him back in his place among the three. It wasn't often it happened due to each other's work schedule, but when it did, someone was going to have their ego bruised, and some furniture might end up being broken.

“I highly recommend to watch what you say next, Simon.” The Apex spoke. His voice had dropped an octave; His Apex was close to taking over to deal with the Alpha. Ghost was silent before scoffing, moving to clean up his broken glass of bourbon. Keegan took this as his chance to break the tense air. “If you two are done with your pissing contest, I think I got one.” He slowly held up the small cloth between his index and middle fingers. As much as Keegan wanted to hoard the small cloth to himself, he needed to let at least his newfound packmates have a chance to decide if the omega was a good fit.

König was the only one who returned to the table to remove the cloth from Keegan’s hand. Lifting it towards his nose, he caught the scent almost immediately. It had him completely forgetting his altercation just minutes prior. “wow….I like this one; her scent is not overpowering and smells good. Simon, wanna try this one?” The Apex had turned back to the Alpha, who was leaning on the counter nursing a new glass of bourbon. The look in his eyes made Konig nervous; the Blonde Alpha was definitely over the whole experience, but seeing how both Keegan and König agreed on the scent patch, it seemed to be at least a contender.

Sighing, He set his drink on the counter before returning to the table. König slowly held the cloth towards him, but before he took it, he looked towards the two Alphas. “If this one smells like shite, I'm punching both of you.” Simon grumbled before snatching the small fabric. He stared at the cloth before finally giving in; as soon as the scent filled his nose, it was as if all the tension in his body had just melted away.

The other Alphas held their breath as they waited to see what the blonde alpha had to say. Simon looked at the pair as he set the cloth on the table near the open file. “Well, she doesn't smell bad. What's in her file?”

Keegan and König shared a look before handing Simon the file; It seemed they finally agreed on their potential omega.

~~~~~

The days counting down to them finally meeting you and bringing you home were absolutely hectic, to say the least. So many emotions filled the small townhouse as all three alphas cleaned and organized the house as best as they could, no omega should have a dirty home when they come home in the alpha's mind. Most were bouts of Anxiousness and Frustration, a vast majority were from the poor Apex who checked everything twice to make sure everything was perfect.

At the one-week mark Ghost and Keegan decided to move into the same room to make sure you have a space for yourself as you settled down. The move sparked from just the simple question "Where is our omega going to stay until she's warmed up to us?" To say it had the alphas taking multiple steps back was an understatement. Another thing that was brought up (By Ghost mind you) was what were you going to use should you decide to make a nest.

It may have not been something the Alphas were well versed in, but they at least made an effort. Cue the three alphas going out and buying almost two whole carts full of nesting material, plus the whole material selection boot camp.

"What about this one? It's big and it's super soft!" ~ König

"No no, She needs something that won't stick to her if she uses this for her heats. What about that silk sheet kinda stuff?" ~ Keegan

"Why not just get her some fucking blankets and pillows, This nesting shit can't be that complicated" ~ Ghost

It was definitely quite the scene watching these big alphas carry multiple bags worth of nesting material due to them being unsure what to get.

Once everything was settled, the day when they finally got to meet you arrived. The checking-in process was seamless, soon leading to the alphas being led to a smaller room waiting for the actual introduction. From what the receptionist had told them the Omegas family still needed to finalize paperwork, It had been the longest wait any of the alphas had ever done. But when the door finally opened to reveal the betas and you, time seemed to stand still.

They collectively decided they would die for you if it made you happy.

~~~~~

It had been a few hours since König had left your room. Call him paranoid, but no noise was coming from the door. Worried about you, he walked back to your door before knocking.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" Hearing no response, he slowly opened the door and was greeted by a dimly lit room. And there on the bed, you laid completely still on the massive bed, sound asleep.

Once you walked in through that door, all his fears and worries seemed to implode and no longer existed. You were more than everything he could have dreamed of; how you weren't already paired was beyond him. You entangled him. Everything about you was beautiful, from your hair and eyes to your body. It wasn't until he had heard his name from downstairs that he was brought out of his trance.

He was casting you one last glance, taking in your sleeping form before turning to leave. König told himself he would make this work. Because now that he had you, He wasn't ever going to let you go.

Tag List: @silentmel, @thisperspective, @thebestgirlever2, @ghostalina, @pascallllllll1, @jujitsuito2069, @hypernovaxx, @frazie99, @v1naco, @littlezarp, @thatoneautor0123, @credince--writes, @4ndjelij4, @alonelyteenagebroncinbuck, @alonelyteenagebroncinbuck, @random0lover, @wintersnnowie, @operatorinvestigatesco, @marytvirgin, @nightriver99, @l-lend, @kelpiesummer, @quietlyignoringyou

[cumikering]

Barista Keegan x reader

4.8k | fluff The barista at your campus library had the prettiest icy blues, striking against his black leather jacket

It was ten minutes to your next lecture. You gathered your laptop and notes off the table and took the last sip of your coffee – bland now because the ice had melted.

On your way out, you placed the dirty glass on the counter as you mumbled a thanks. The barista, always the same one with the prominent blue eyes, turned from the machine and nodded wordlessly over his shoulder.

The class was always slow, but the coffee helped you to not doze off. Besides, you had something to look forward to after. Outside the lecture hall, your best friend waved at you with a grin. You couldn’t help but return it. She linked arms with you and headed to the parking lot.

“I think I’m getting this,” Monty said as she held her phone out, showing you the birthday dress for her dinner the coming month. She’d been looking forward to the trip to the boutique for her dress fitting.

“Oh, that’s a lovely colour!” you gushed, admiring the pinkish champagne fabric. She would look gorgeous in it.

As you climbed into the front seat of her car, you stalled as you saw the barista again. It was your first time seeing him without his signature apron, but it wasn’t hard to recognise his jet-black hair and sharp jaw. He zipped up his leather jacket and swung his leg over his bike before looking up. The eye contact made your heart stop, but you quickly snapped your gaze away and strapped yourself in.

Monty chuckled, following your previous line of sight. “Is that the barista from the library?”

Out the windshield, he tipped his chin up slightly to fasten his helmet. It was enough for you to catch a glimpse of the movement of his thick neck. He leaned in, looking impressively built grasping the handlebar of his black motorbike as it came to life with a rumble. With the back of his boot, he flipped the kickstand up and rode away.

“I knew you always had a thing for bikers,” she teased.

You waved your hand dismissively, the heat creeping up your neck.

“Well, I was asking if you’d like a dress in a matching shade?”

“Of course! I have time this weekend, I can find-”             

“Great, because I was thinking you can try on some dresses with me too.” She beamed, starting her car. “The sooner the better, right?”

The outing lasted longer than expected - the both of you had too much fun trying on all the cute dresses. While Monty settled with her initial choice, you found a simple one in a complimentary shade. After dinner and a movie, she dropped you home close to 11. Unfortunately, it meant you had more schoolwork to do the next day to make up for it.

Last semester, the university got the library revamped with an atrium and a coffee shop. You’d made it a habit to study there, and inadvertently saw the barista a lot. You didn’t mean to. It was not your fault he worked there on the days you came in.

You usually came between classes, but that Friday was an exception. When you found yourself heading to the library after your only class, you told yourself it was because the atmosphere was less depressing than your cramped studio apartment. It didn’t hurt that the drinks were good.

Definitely not because of the handsome and tattooed barista with his pretty eyes. Or that his voice was ridiculously silky like he was purring when he repeated your order at the register. Did he always sound like that, or was it just his library voice?

“One iced caramel latte,” he called in a gentle tone.

From across the room, you made your way to the counter. When you looked up, he smiled at you.

Despite his deadpan tone and sharp eyes, it wasn’t that he was unfriendly. He was always polite, but it was your first time seeing him really smile – like he meant to.

You flashed him a smile in return as the butterflies stirred in your belly, but averted your gaze down to his nametag. Keegan R. Obviously still the same since you first saw it those months ago.

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You grabbed your drink and hurried back to your table.

You weren’t there to see him – wasn’t trying to. It wasn’t your fault he worked there, was it?

As you sipped between the pages of your textbook, you looked up to the darkening sky, the clouds swirling. The trees swayed in the wind before the first drop of rain splattered on the tall glass ceiling.

It looked like the rain would last a while. You pulled out your earbuds, preferring the pitter patter of the rain and powered through your essay. Thankfully, you weren’t stuck somewhere unpleasant, and you had almost two hours until the library closed. Surely the rain would have passed by then.

Wrong.

When a figure approached you, the rain had barely slowed.

“Just a heads up, dear, we close in 15 minutes,” the librarian said, always with the polite smile.

“Right. Okay.“

“Diana, mind if I lock up today? I’ll have to wait the rain out anyway,” Keegan chimed from his counter.

“Oh, sure,” she answered and looked back at you. “Well, you can stay longer then.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

As the last few students left the building, you thought it was Diana approaching your table once more, but it was Keegan instead.

“Would you like anything else to drink? On the house.”

“Sorry?”

“I get a free drink for each shift. I figured I’d make you something since you come here a lot.”

You didn’t know what to make of the fact that he noticed, but you smiled. “Dealer’s choice? Whatever’s convenient for you.”

You looked up when Diana bade her goodbyes to Keegan and dropped her keys off on the counter, leaving the both of you in the building. You supposed it was time for a break. You packed your books aside and pulled up a gameplay video of your latest obsession.

“One iced Franken-latte.” Keegan placed two cups on the table. “Or two. It didn’t fit in one glass.”

“A what?”

“Frankenstein latte. I’ve never tried it, but my coworker always makes it after his shift.”

So it wasn’t his library voice. His voice was that honeyed for no reason.

You tried to bite down your grin. “One for you then.”

“Why not.” He shrugged, blue eyes wondering to your laptop screen. “Is that A Way Out?”

“Yes! Have you played?”

He pulled out the chair next to you. “My roommate absolutely sucks at games so not more than an hour unfortunately. Have you?”

You shook your head. “Got no console,” you said, reaching for the cup. “Well, thanks for this.”

He hummed and followed suit after you took a sip of the unsuspecting latte.

You didn’t want to be rude, but your brows couldn’t help but knit. Your wary gaze slid to him. Was this a prank?

Keegan turned to you with a deadpan expression before sighing. “That tastes terrible.” He placed the cup back on the table. “I knew it. I shouldn’t have trusted Kick and his fruity, salted caramel toothpaste.”

You laughed. “What the hell is in this?”

“A dash of every syrup.” He got up, heat colouring his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. He swears it’s the best, but I’m not sure what he smokes anymore these days.” He gathered your cups and made his way behind the counter.

You followed him, still chuckling as he dumped the cursed lattes in the sink.

“Could I make you something else?” he called behind his shoulder.

“That’s fine.” You looked out the window. “I think the rain won’t last much longer anyway.”

He turned to you, seemingly wounded by the rejection. “I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose. I do hope that wouldn’t stop you from coming back.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back, of course,” you reassured. “At least we can say we’ve tried every syrup.”

His shoulders relaxed as he gave you a small smile. As he cleaned his station for closing, you leaned against the wooden counter and asked what he’d been playing on his console. You discussed your favourite games and upcoming releases, finding that you both had a common taste in games.

You made him laugh. The way the deep rumble from his chest made you bite your lip, it was just as well he had his back to you. At least he wouldn’t catch you staring at his muscles casually flexing as he wiped down the already-spotless stainless-steel counters.

“All done now,” he announced, taking one last look at his work. He reached behind to remove his apron before excusing himself to the back of the house.

You almost didn’t notice the rain had stopped to a mere trickle. You, too, retreated to your table to pack your laptop. Embarrassment flared at how much you enjoyed looking at him and his tattooed arms. You could only do it from across the room, so how could anyone blame you for being greedy when you could stand so close? But you weren’t supposed to be admiring him any more than you already did whenever you studied, yet there you were, fuelling your aimless infatuation.

Moments after, he joined you at the door, now clad in his leather jacket and backpack, his shiny black helmet in hand.

“Thanks again for the drink,” you said as he locked up. “Keegan,” you added, albeit a little too late for it to sound natural.

He turned to you with a sparkle in his vibrant blue eyes. “You’re welcome. I promise to make you something better next time.”

You only realised now he was a few inches taller than you. You smiled before shifting your gaze to your feet and nodded.

“Where did you park?”

“I’m walking home.”

“Do you want a ride?” he asked, not missing a beat.

Keegan rode slow the few minutes to your apartment. He wore his backpack in reverse and said you could hold onto its straps - out of courtesy you hoped. He’d been too nice with the drink and ride, but at least your place was on his way to his, so you didn’t feel too bad.

You thanked him in front of your building, earning you a nod. Or maybe more, who knew, he had his helmet on. With that, you turned, chewing on your lip. The flutters were more than just from the thrill of the ride.

Being so close to him, you couldn’t help but inhale him in the breeze.  The sweet earthiness of leather, robust coffee, a hint of sweat, and a dash of smoke and gasoline somewhere in there. The scent would haunt you for a little longer.

After two steps, he called, “H-Hey- uh, hold on.“

Keegan couldn’t believe it. He got your number.

Never mind that he stumbled over his words when he asked. It didn’t help that the wind had tousled your hair making you even more adorable. But you smiled so sweetly when you handed his phone back to him and he had your number.

For months, each week you’d come to the library two out of the four days he worked. Of course he noticed. You’d pick the table in the far corner and study with your earphones on. You were always a little shy, never meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds each time. No matter, it meant he had more time to look at your pretty face up close, because otherwise he could only steal glances from afar.

In his last year of engineering degree, he had far fewer classes and could work more hours. But when he studied behind the counter, it didn’t feel as lonely with you there across the room.

But you were always just that to him: a muse, a fantasy, a distant company. He didn’t know any more than your name. He didn’t know what you studied, if you had a boyfriend… He didn’t even want to smile nor acknowledge this - what if he got too attached?

But that Thursday when you tore your gaze away from his in the parking lot, something shifted. Maybe he wasn’t just a dude who made your coffee after all.

So on Friday the next day when you unexpectantly came, Keegan couldn’t hold back his excitement. You usually came on Tuesday and Thursday, he assumed between classes. It was just his luck you stayed until closing so he could make a complimentary drink for his favourite customer. Baristas did that all the time, right?

However, in the flurry, he didn’t think through Kick’s recipe. He’d always been skeptical, but why else would his colleague make it so often? He should have listened to his guts because it was repulsive. But you laughed, and- oh God, you were so pretty. And you liked the games he liked? It was unbelievable.

So with his back to you, he scrubbed and scrubbed the counters as you chatted until his arms ached. He didn’t want to turn to you and look creepy with his uncontainable grin. Would he ever get another chance to talk to you like this again?

He spent his entire weekend itching to say something to you, but he couldn’t figure out what to text and therefore was forced to wait until you’d drop by the library again. He didn’t see you on Monday, as he’d expected. But when Tuesday afternoon came around, the buzz in him intensified. Any minute now.

When you approached the glass door, he busied himself, not wanting to look like a puppy with its wet nose against the window as its tail wagged. But when you said hello, he whipped to you so fast, the grin already on his face.

“Hi. What can I get you today?”

You smiled, maybe even laughed a little. Did his voice crack?

Your gaze dropped to the summer menu. “One pink lemonade, please.”

He tapped on the tablet. “My treat. To make up for the other day.”

“Oh, no. You can’t do that-“

He turned to the fridge. “Coming right up.”

You placed the bills into the tip jar instead.

On your way to your next class, you placed the dirty cup on the counter. “Thanks, Keegan. See you around.”

He made his way to you and cleared his throat. “I can give you a ride home on Thursday if you want,” he said, remembering last week when he saw you at the parking lot. “I’ll bring my old helmet you can wear.”

“Oh, you’ve been too nice. Thanks so much, but I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I really don’t mind, but that’s only if you want to.”

You smiled. “If you say so.”

When your lecture ended that Thursday, Keegan was already waiting with a tumbler of lemonade and two helmets. You came out with a girl next to you, radiant as you chatted with her. She’d come to the library a few times with you to get her caramel macchiato with oat milk.

You did a double take, but your smile widened when your pretty eyes met his. You were supposed to meet him at the library, but he’d taken the liberty to surprise you instead. You introduced him to your friend Montana who didn’t bother to hide the knowing look she shot your way.

It only made his stomach flip. Was he being too obvious?

In front of his bike, you waved goodbye at Montana as she drove off. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea riding in the summer, a fact he’d never mulled over until he stood there as you sipped your ice cold lemonade. He gulped.

With a small laugh, you offered the last half of the drink, which he gladly chugged. It was just what he needed.

He handed you his old helmet, deep red - his first one. It was perfectly functional, albeit scuffed up from all the times he carelessly dropped it onto the grating pavement, or knocked it over tables and chairs over the years.

“Do you have anywhere to be?”

He zipped his jacket up. “No. Why?”

“You want to get something to eat?”

He smiled. “We can go anywhere.”

Keegan picked his favourite burger joint, the one at the pier. You chatted as you ate, and as pretty as the ocean was outside, the air conditioning indoors was too comfortable to pass up on. You shared another serving of fries, and he wished the table was smaller so he could be closer to you.

Why did it feel so good being around you? There was no awkward silence even when no words were exchanged. The quiet was easy; on his brain too, because he’d never been the chattiest in the room. You exuded serenity, the kind that gave him a dash of nervousness that kept his stomach tossing in delight. He couldn’t look away - he wanted to lean in closer and closer.

You insisted on paying, and with a pleased smile, he let you. It would simply be an excuse to return the favour with more drinks.

Later when you hopped on his bike, he didn’t expect for your arms to wrap around his waist. His breath hitched. Was this really happening? Surely, you only did this for safety purposes. He shouldn’t be reading that much into it. Although it would be embarrassing if you could feel his heartbeat going crazy if you leaned in any longer.

When you got off his bike in front of your building, he turned to you and popped his visor up.

You took the helmet off and handed it back to him. “Thanks for today, Keegan.”

“You’re welcome.” He took it with a grin. “I had fun.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

“I was wondering… If you’d like to come over and play A Way Out tomorrow? Alex should be home too. We can get pizza for dinner after.” He was glad his face was covered because he could have sworn he was beet red under it. “Only if you have time, of course.”

You averted your eyes, but your smile only brightened. “I’d like that.”

“Then you keep this. For tomorrow.” He held out the helmet towards you.

And so it became a routine.

Some days, Keegan would wait with a drink in his tumbler in front of your lecture hall before heading to his own class. Once a week, you’d make him sandwiches for lunch and drop them off at the library. Sometimes you’d do schoolwork there together.

He tried to not make it obvious that every now and then he’d linger around to spend a little more time with you, be it to grab a bite or to simply give you a ride home – something he always did when your schedules allowed anyway. But on Fridays, you always came over to his place to game.

Not only was co-op gaming with you insanely fun, he also guided you on how to play some of his favourite single-player games. The way you’d laugh in delight, he could listen to you all day. And he did, sitting next to you watching you play. This was more his thing anyway: enjoying your presence without having to always talk.

Ajax, who was reserved (if he wasn’t, Keegan wouldn’t have been close friends with him since high school, let alone be his flatmate), didn’t take long to warm up to you either. While he was quiet at the first pizza dinner, he lingered whenever he emerged out of his room, standing by the couch munching on his potato chips as he nodded approvingly at each shot you got. Soon, he would wedge himself next to Keegan to cheer you on and hype you up.

You’d turn to him with a proud smile. Yeah, he could sit there next to you all day.

Meanwhile, something had been brewing in Keegan’s mind. He’d been wanting to take you to the helmet shop too pick out something you like, but he was worried it was too forward, too much of a commitment. What if you got the wrong idea? Well, evidently, he did want to articulate that idea, but what if he scared you away instead? He hadn’t even held your hand.

And so he did what he did best: be patient and wait. He’d rather be sure you were comfortable with him than rush into things and ruin any chance he had with you. No matter how subtle, you would give him signs, right?

The last Saturday before Monty’s birthday, you went out for ice cream with her before going to her final fitting. When she suggested dinner afterwards, you told her you’d made plans with Keegan.

“So what’s going on with you and him?” she asked as she smoothed down her dress, smiling teasingly through the large full length mirror.

“Nothing.”

“He’ll be your plus one at my dinner, right?” She twisted, inspecting the dress on her.

“What? No! He doesn’t see me like that.” You swatted your hand. “We’re just friends,” you trailed off, trying to not slump in your seat.

“He definitely likes you! Why else would you be out with him on Saturday night?”

“He doesn’t. He… He never makes a move.” Your gaze dropped to the ground.

Monty marched to you and gripped you by the shoulders. “Oh my God! How is waiting outside your lecture hall with a freshly made drink only to give you a ride home not a move?”

“But…”

“I would have believed if you told me he didn’t have the muscles to smile, until I saw him with you.” She shook her head. “The poor guy. Put him out of his misery already!”

When Keegan picked you up for dinner from the boutique, Montana was all smiles while you couldn’t seem to hold his gaze.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, handing you the helmet.

You shook your head, fastening the strap.

You’d tell him when you were ready, and he could be patient. But at the taco place as he stared at you staring at your hands under the table – it was uncharacteristic of him, the silence grated against him. Did he do something?

“Did I-“

“Keegan,” you started at the same time, eyes flicking to him before dropping back.

“Yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Would you want to come to Monty’s dinner with me?”

He grinned, relieved. “Of course, yes. It would be my pleasure.”

As if the tension had melted, you were your normal self again, giggly and warm. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but you held his gaze longer than usual. He liked it. He loved looking into your pretty eyes. He scooted his seat closer to the table, letting his foot rest against yours. You didn’t move away.

For dessert, he got you a churro from the food truck nearby. His stomach flipped when your fingers brushed his when he handed it to you.

On the way to yours, at the red light – oh, he’d been aching to do this for weeks - he finally plucked up the courage to squeeze his hand over yours as you held onto his waist. You held on tighter. He liked to think you smiled behind him, the shy kind perhaps. You always looked adorable with it.

Over the next week, you sat a little closer to him – maybe only an inch or two, but it didn’t elude him. You didn’t look away nearly as much as you used to either. He liked that you were finally comfortable enough with him.

In a burst of confidence, he grasped your hand as he walked you to class. It made his heart flutter whenever you’d look up at him with a smile like that. You walked closer to him, your other hand clasped over his tattooed arm. He bit down his grin.

Before Keegan knew it, it was Montana’s birthday.

That evening, in front of the bathroom mirror, he brushed his fingers through his hair and leaned in, inspecting his handiwork. Was it supposed to look this way? He hadn’t had to style his hair in such a long time (his helmet wouldn’t have allowed it).

“Dude, you look fine, I swear,” Ajax called from the couch. “She already likes you anyway.”

He stood in front of the doorway facing his roommate, voice hopeful. “Are you sure?”

He did a once over as Keegan smoothed down his crisp black button down and dark jeans. Freshly shaved, he’d also put on some cologne for the occasion.

“Affirmative. Just go already!” He slipped past him, slamming the bathroom door behind him. “I’ve been holding my piss in for half an hour!”

He laughed and bade his goodbye, not forgetting to pick up the keys on the table. Ajax had told him to drive his car for the night, an offer he gratefully took.

At your door, Keegan shifted his weight as he, once more, examined his boots, his hands shoved in his pockets. When you opened the door, his greeting wedged in his throat.

“You’re-“ His eyes scanned down your outfit, letting out an inaudible ‘wow’. “You’re gorgeous.”

You were stunning in your peach dress, the shade complementing your skin. You’d done your hair too, pretty in your heels and glossy lips.

You smiled, reaching to place a hand on his forearm. “Thank you. You look really nice yourself.”

At the venue, Montana lit up when she saw you, but clasped her hand over her laughter when she registered the large gift you carried. She donned a sequin dress, the shade similar to yours. You embraced and gushed over each other’s outfit before her attention turned to the Hello Kitty plushie you cradled. She wore a pink helmet and a matching racing suit - you told him she was a Formula One fan. He smiled. It was endearing how much you adored each other.

Montana had assigned her boyfriend, Troy, and you to sit next to her, with Keegan by your side. She would have liked the Hello Kitty to get her own seat at the table too, alas, she didn’t RSVP and had to sit among the other gifts. As you chatted with the neighbouring guests at dinner, your hand on his thigh comforted him. He didn’t usually like large gatherings, especially one where he didn’t know most of the attendants, but you didn’t make him feel left out as you included him in the conversation. His hand enveloped yours in appreciation as he tried to hide his smile behind his glass.

After dessert, the ladies got up to dance to the upbeat music. You and your girls laughed on the dancefloor, enjoying yourselves. He couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on his face. Did you always look that beautiful?

Focused on you, he didn’t realise Montana had made her way to him.

“Go dance with her.”

Keegan chuckled. He didn’t know how to dance.

“Come on, don’t make her wait too long now.” She walked away, shooting a teasing smile over her shoulder.

He let out a small laugh as he pushed his chair back. If he had to embarrass himself, you were the only one he wanted to do it for. As he approached, your girls stepped away with a giggle, making you frown in confusion.

At the sight of him, you relaxed.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

You nodded, your smile widening.

He took a step in, tentatively resting his hands on your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started swaying. He followed, careful to not step on your toes, but honestly, he was content to bask in the proximity and simply stare into your eyes like so.

Just as he thought the electronic music wasn’t ideal, the song abruptly changed into something slower. You laughed. Montana couldn’t have been more obvious with this, huh?

Your thumb brushed the nape of his neck, sending tingles down his spine. With a shaky breath, he leaned in, forehead resting against yours before shutting his eyes. This close, he could smell you – sweet and soft.

Were his palms sweating? Probably, but he couldn’t tell with the way they fitted perfectly on your waist.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder, but must have felt his heartbeat picking up because you looked up at him with an amused look.

His icy blues were already on you, tender yet intense. “Can I kiss you?”

Your brilliant smile was all the answer he needed. Against your lips, he sighed deeply as his fingers curled over your waist, wanting to stay in the moment longer. You seemed to feel the same, your arms wrapping tighter around him as you pressed your body against his.

When you pulled away, he chuckled in awe while you looked away.

He tilted your face up to him, thumb brushing over your cheek. “We should get you your own helmet.”

“I’d like that,” your murmured against his smile.

Masterlist Tinder Keegan Neighbour Keegan Werewolf Keegan

Happy birthday to @operationdeadbolt my first ever Keegan simp friend!! You’re such a cutie bundle of sunshine. I adore the way you love so much, so generously, gushing over the things you like. Talking to you always makes me smile, and you inspire me to keep enjoying life, to be grateful. You gave me the moon and I always think of you when I see it

Thank you for reminding me there is joy to be found everywhere. I hope happiness and resilience are always with you every step of the way. Here’s to many more times we’re going to crush on cod dudes <3

[velvet-paradox]

Naughty

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: You like your man a little mean and he obliges. Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, established relationship, name calling (dumb, dummy, toy, slut), strong language, porn with very little plot, a lot of brain rot going on here friends, light slapping (but not painful), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talking, detailed smut. P.S. I may or may not have a lovi obsession just sayin'. OK BYE Tagging: @synnersaint

She likes it when he's mean.

When he comes home hot and still full of spit and vinegar. Says it turns her on to get a little kaleidoscope glimpse in to what his enemies get the full taste of. Of course he's never truly mean to her, how could he? He loves his little dummy back home. With her glittering eyes and open arms, waiting patiently for him mission after mission. Her hugs are the best. Welcoming him home, where he belongs, even if he does reek of gun residue, sweat and gore.

Blood doesn't bother her, whether it be her own or Keegan's, she's not shy with the sticky stuff. She's cleaned his wounds with bare hands and when she's finished she's got more dirt and grime under her nails then he did. She's even stitched his forehead once or twice, much to his disapproval even though when he chances a look in the mirror, he can barely see the scars.

She's good.

Too good.

Too good for him, she doesn't deserve the junk and turmoil he brings to her doorstep. Wounds that won't heal, scars that won't fade. But he tries. He tries to be a good man when he's not running point, when he's not given instructions to just barrel through and get the job at hand, done. Keegan wants to be a good man; good enough to deserve you.

He looks at your photo when he's alone in his tent, on the road, in the helo. When the world is just too fucking loud, he's careful to take it out of his front left breast pocket (safe keeping of course), looking at your beautiful handwriting first.

FROM ONE DUMMY TO ANOTHER XOXO

He'll smile at it, beneath his ghost balaclava or bare and streaked when he's all alone, before he'll turn it over. Still after these tedious months, he gets that tingle in the pit of his stomach, the ends of his toes, the balls of his feet, the seam where God himself split his sac.

You don't have to be naked to look this fucking good. In fact, you're fully clothed, only your soft hands are available, giving two peace signs on the back of his motorcycle. Two of his most precious guilty pleasures.

"Come on, come on." Your whine cuts through the forgotten music in the background, the faint smell of a homecooked meal wafts up the stairs and renders the man completely useless.

Keegan is transfixed at the leash in his hand, the black leather is soft and worn in his palm, the chain clinks quietly when he moves his wrist and finally looks down. Stunned once more by your beauty. On your knees in a lacy one piece, slinky at best, leaving just a hint of peek-a-boo skin through the fine material. The leash is of course attached to the collar around your neck, next thing he sees is your wiggling, hips swaying as if you had a tail, sticking out your tongue in a lewd and obscene manner.

"You said we were gonna' play," you pouted as Keegan smiled down at your desperation. Distance did make the heart grow fonder and stitched your desires back together. "Don't you wanna' play with me?"

"Of course I do baby," Keegan pet your pretty face, humming when you nuzzled against his palm. "I'm just trying to figure out which hole I'd rather stretch out tonight."

The gasp and look in your eyes hit him straight in the groin, knowing damn he'd never sunk into that tight ring of muscle as of yet. You'd need preparation, time and training of course and more than just spit as lube.

Keegan shuffled and wound the chain around his thick fist, drawing you up on your knees. "You wanna' play? Let's play."

….

Your noises are music to his ears, long forgotten are the spraying bullets and shouts of commands, what's left, the only sounds that matter are of desire. Not too long ago were you taunting him from over your shoulder. He forced you to stand, about face, hands on the wall as he kicked your legs open. Biting his tongue at the way you arched your back and made your ass jiggle, pushing back against him as he tried to remain as still as possible. Which wasn't easy.

You never took it easy it on Keegan, he was a man of war. As much as you'd tease him, make that pretty noise when you wanted something badly enough to vocalize it, he'd lose his composure. Keeping the balaclava on just a little longer until he couldn't take it anymore.

He tossed you to the bed after that stunt, crawling over you, the clips of his fresh gear snagging on the lace as he covered your mouth with one hand, pinned your hip down with the other and stared into your fluttering eyes.

"You sound so good baby, so damn needy for me. You can hardly stand it, huh? Look at you, already moaning like a slut for me, just for me right? No one else."

You shook your head frantically, mumbling behind his palm until he lifted it away from your lips. "What's that, pet?"

"No one. No one else, I promise. Just you," you licked his hand sensually, keeping your eyes on his face as you laid back down. "I only want you to slut me out."

Keegan chuckled lowly with a nod of approval, pinching your side. "Good girl. Now just keep letting me know how good you feel, yeah? 'm gonna' keep going until you're shaking, making a fucking mess, is that understood?"

Your enthusiastic face made him hard.

Keegan ripped off his mask and got down on his knees, dipping the bed with his weight. He delighted in your squeals and giggles, fitting your legs over his shoulders, licking his lips when he realized the only the thing separating his mouth from your pussy was a pair of flat snap buttons.

Now listen, Keegan is no slouch when it comes to eating pussy. He knows what he's doing. If there were a (pun intended) eating contest, there would be a trophy case decorated with a few honorable medals as well.

The first time he tasted you, you almost broken his nose, bucking up hard into his face. You apologized repeatedly but Keegan just laughed it off, saying that would be the best excuse for his twice broken nose already. He licked his name against your clit. Letter by letter, shapes and swirls as he claimed your cunt.

K was a pointed tongue slashed against the hooded nub, the first E was gentle and flat tongued, the other E was followed by a slow and deliberate suck, G was a sloppy swirl and A and N were hummed to a tune of his own making.

Your hands moving to brush back his hair felt so damn good on his scalp, panting and wiggling for him. It had been two weeks too long. "Please baby that's it, that's it." Your voice was already fucked.

"I know you fucking love it," Keegan grunted against your sex, taking a moment to grace your slick folds with the bridge of his nose, chuckling lowly when you keened. "You just fucking love it when I devour you whole, don't you? Yes you do, tastes so fucking good."

When Keegan got lost in the sauce there was no telling just what he'd say, what string of commands or obscenities he'd loop together in some sensual tapestry that left you breathless.

"Yeah? I taste good?"

Keegan lifted his head, remnants of black grease paint over his pretty eyes looked up at you from between your legs, making them tremble in his grip. "You taste divine, princess."

With that, Keegan brought you to the edge, licking and sucking, toying with your cunt when he tagged in his fingers to join in the fun, those thick fingers breached your hole and stretched you out over and over until you begged. Sobbed for him to let you cum, that you couldn't hold it back any longer and oh how did Keegan love it when you begged!

"Come on sweetie, you can do better than that. Turns me on when you do it…. so fucking beg."

He licked your arousal from his fingers, making an absolute show of it too. "Good job, baby. You did such a good job for me." Keegan groaned as you panted to catch your breath, laid out and limber. He could throw you over his shoulders if he wanted, flip you over with ease, your limp body just going through the motions. Keegan could (and has) had you in every position possible and some that required a bit of technical work, a little fine tuning, angling his hips just so, holding your neck or lacing your fingers together.

Keegan is a man of many talents, in and out of the bedroom as he shifts and takes off his belt-- one handed. Your glassy eyes shine in the dim light from the room, predatory as you drink him in while he undresses.

Your hands are on his waist, burning hot before gives a gentle pat to the outside of your thigh, rolling you over on to your stomach. Sometimes he can't help himself and he gets this primal surge deep in his groin to obliterate you, break you, fuck you raw and stupid until you're a sloppy little mess of limbs and cum.

The smacks to your ass are deliberate and you raise up only to be pushed back down, Keegan grunted at you to keep still, to spread your legs, keep that one bent, just like that.

Keegan edges himself, rock hard in his hand as you dips just the crown of it around the base you, still wet. That bit of pre-cum on the tip is enough to wiggle between your cheeks with ease.

You shudder when he does that thing you like.

His spit slips between you, another glob of it makes it a sound leaving his mouth and hitting his shaft.

"Jesus Keegan, fuck me already. I need it."

"Oh I've got just what you need you dumb little pet," he grabs the leash, tugging on the chain as you pull on the sheets. "Whose my dumb little girl, huh? Is it you, baby? Are you my dummy girl?"

"Fuck. Yes."

Keegan yanks on it, jerking your head back. "Say it. I wanna' hear you say it."

Fuck; he's throbbing.

"I'm your dumb little girl. Just so fucking-- God that feels so good... I'm so dumb, so dumb for your cock, baby. Please."

"Good job." Keegan cooed and then thrusted in deep. "Let's slut you out then, yeah?"

….

God you're pretty. Clawing at the sheets as he fucks you through another orgasm. The clanking, your moans and body bending, arching into his touch like a needy cat. Pet me pet me pet me.

"Baby please," you paw at him, sentences die on your tongue, failing to make it out of the column of your throat. "I'm gonna' cum again." Now on your back with your knees pretty much to your chest, rocking on his cock with his momentum, the leash pulled skin tight.

"Awww of course you are. I can feel you squeezing me, my dumb little girl is getting her pretty little hole fucked out. You're so fucking hot," Keegan moaned out, he dragged a hand down his face, salt and sweat, paint staining his hands before he smeared it over your chest. He's marked you in a number of ways but to see you marked like this, with his mystery always got him going.

"Just like that-- ha!" you drawled, an almost pained 'oh my God' seeped into the air behind clenched teeth. Keegan mimicked you instantly, keeping his hand pressed between your tits. "I'm gonna' cum again, don't stop!"

Keegan's chuckle held desire and humor, fitting one of your legs over his shoulder, smearing his face against your calf. He was tempted to take a bite, too. Those intrusive thoughts always got the better of him.

"You think I could ever stop fucking this pussy, huh? Fuck yeah, squeeze around me again baby. You're such a good girl for me," Keegan was rewarded by his own praise when you leaned up to watch him split you open, spit on your pussy and fuck you harder.

What can I say? The man has stamina.

"Oh my God! Keep going keep going, fuck."

Your legs started to shake the minute Keegan's thumb met your swollen bundle of nerves, throbbing around his cock, crying out for more more more, that you couldn't take it. You came with a whine, sobbing with your release that flooded around the base of his cock. Keegan growled and gave it, chomping down the sensitive meat of your leg.

"Good job, baby. You look so fucking cute when you cum, when you're all brain dead," Keegan hissed through his teeth and pinned you down, heavy hands on your knees as he spread you open. "Open up for me, let me finish inside you. Gonna' fuckin' fill you up, two weeks is bullshit. Stay awake baby," he gently slapped your face in quick succession, jerking your chin to make you look at him and only him. "Don't get all dizzy on me now dummy, you've got some more dick to take."

She's really going to get it now...

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! May I request a reader x Keegan drabble where the reader is an artist in secret?

Sure, they roam the wake of no mans land in a ravaging war, but in the moments they are not on missions they capture the scenery around them. Wether it be on rooftops, surrounding woods or abandoned shelters, the reader revels in the few moments of silence they have before another bombardment of bloodshed is thrown their way to remember places or things around them before they eventually move again

How would Keegan react, let alone if he caught reader sketching him?

Thank you for your time, have a good day :D

—Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

The camp is quiet, and you are tired. 

Looking out along the wreckage of this wasted world, there seems to be no end to the broken valleys or the craters of rock—this desolation remains as if an angry God had thrown a tantrum, and smashed the earth to bits. Trees grew sideways, wreckage that could be bits of houses or even remnants of bone breed in the little spaces under moss and bush; where the rest died, nature took back what was hers. Thus, the cycle continued.

What breathes, dies, and with that firm and undisputable reality, you find beauty in moments like these. 

You blink down at what still breathes of the patchwork lungs of No Man’s Land, pencil in your hand still for but a moment of red-eyed concentration. The deer was down in the dip below the Ghosts’ quiet camp for the steadily growing night—white where it should be a tawny-blonde shade. Barely breathing, you watch with half of its albino form sketched out in short bursts of graphite on your sun-bleached possession. 

A sketchbook, old, and worn to the very binding of its pages, and yet to you a more prized possession had never been held in your grip. 

So focused on the deer and its white shadow; its lithe body as it grazes along the forest floor amidst a soft rustling of leaves, you don’t notice the man behind you—a man supposed to be sleeping. 

It’s a minute of looking at your awe-filled face before Keegan clears his throat, speaking in a low grumble. “Not every day you see that, huh?”

You startle back so quickly that your pencil slips out of your hand, bouncing off your thighs before clattering to the flat rock that serves as your lookout platform. A clink of metal on stone is all it takes, the pencil falling down into the lower land and striking through greenery as you gasp and snap your eyes away. The flighty heart of the deer all at once sparked in a puff of air from its nostrils and a flair of a raised tail. 

It disappears into the bushes and its white flash is seen until the thick foliage swallows it again. You look back just in time to grace your eyes with one last glimpse. 

A deep disappointment blooms and you level out a sigh as Keegan clicks his tongue, guiltily rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“Shit, Sweetheart,” he hums, “didn’t mean to…” Keegan tapers off with a low groan. “I’ll, uh, get you a new pencil when we’re back, yeah?” 

You stare at the forest a moment longer before huffing out and shifting—you turn and glance at the Sergeant before grumbling out, “You have a nasty habit of sneaking up on people, Russ. I don’t like it when it’s me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, his body still in gear and armed just like yours. Even sleeping, Ghosts bore the fangs of the living. Keegan’s face is down a mask, though, so you’re privy to see his built jaw and strong features in the moonlight. Black hair like a void. 

He sighs. 

“Again, didn’t mean to. Thought you knew I was there.” Your eyes roll, but a small smirk snaps your lip.

“Of course you did.” Huffing and shaking his head, the man comes to lean against your rock. 

“What ya workin’ on anyways? Seen you scribblin’ in that thing every chance you get. Got curious enough tonight to ask when I saw you up during Ajax’s watch.” He blinks at you, swirling with curiosity and dim intrigue. “You take over for him?”

You smile, shrugging. “Maybe.” Keegan stares and raises a dark brow as your form leans closer, presenting your object of patience and smudged graphite. “You gonna wake him up?”

The man takes the object and studies your half-finished work with an acute eye, taking in the lines and erased bits that indent the paper. He tilts his head at it and a moment later he grunts an answer, lost in thought. 

“Depends.” Blue meets your vision in a slow sweep. “You tired?”

Face burning, you clear your throat and begin to stutter a negative before the worst moment of your life takes place. 

Keegan grabs one page of your sketchbook and starts flipping. Heart lurching and eyes wrenching open to the size of dinner plates, your hand snatches at the old cover—but not before the damage is done.

The dead-gazed Sergeant locks onto a perfect image of his own sleeping body from hours earlier. Drawn face soft and calm in the gray of blended material that you’d had to use your finger to achieve, and limbs loose; he almost seemed to come off the page in an intensive display of detail. 

Keegan pauses and feels his jaw slightly slacken, eyes going that bit wider before his brows lift in shocked pleasure. Your hand latches onto the top of your book and rips it from the man’s grasp easily.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through people’s things?!” Your heart is racing, palms going clammy. At your chest, you hold your belonging with a tight scoff of embarrassment.

Keegan’s lids move up and down three times in quick succession before he replies. A tease is so deep in his words you cringe with a burning face.

“Anyone tell you it’s rude to watch people sleep, Sweetheart?” Glaring, you have to look away. 

It wasn’t exactly common knowledge to others that you liked the gruff man, but if anyone took one look into your sketchbook they’d know the truth. Pages were dedicated to finding the perfect slant of his eyes—that structure of his jaw and his broken-one-to-many-times nose. 

His lips and how his skin looked when he smirked. 

Shame tightens your face and you stare hard at the trees a few feet away; the sleeping forms of your comrades. Until a smooth chuckle leaves you breathless. 

A puff of air spreads over your cheek but you don’t dare turn your head. 

Keegan whispers to you slowly, that gravel in his tone and his lips brushing against your ear as he leans closer to you—arms crossed in front of him.

“If you wanted me to pose there, Doll, all you had to do was ask me. No use watchin’ from a distance…I’ll give you the full tour.” 

He walks off back to his mat of leaves and grass and you’re left gaping and choking on your own thoughts; honied vision dripping shock.

Keegan calls easily over his shoulder as if his comment hadn’t made your pulse pound, “I’m waking up Ajax—go back to bed. Scenery’ll be the same come morning.” 

You breathe in his sly quip, “trust me.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[l0v3tast3]

SOMETHING LIKE A DEATH KISS | KEEGAN RUSS

keegan saves you from certain death in an active warzone. after some time of being stuck in the same safehouse, he helps you let down your guard.

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, fem!reader, keegan's kinda icky in this, he calls you "kid" among other pet names, unprotected s3x, dirty talk, this is pure smut, loss of virginity

✎ word count: 1.7k words (not proofread)

✎ author's note: this has been sitting in my drafts for quite a bit lol i don't think it's my best work but i wanted to write something for keegan cuz edits of him took over my fyp for awhile (///￣ ￣///)

masterlist

"don't run."

keegan's impressed with you. just a few hours ago, you were so twitchy, eyes flitting every which way and muscles endlessly tensed. the gunfire he'd saved you from had you on constant high alert for days in the safehouse you were both holed up in.

now, you couldn't care less about your surroundings. not when he's sinking his cock into you centimeter by centimeter. the stretch stings, your body and your instincts clashing in wanting to buck your hips into his and wanting to squirm further up the bed. the hour that keegan spent working his tongue against your clit still wasn't enough, apparently.

"c'mon kid, you can take it," he breathes, right into your neck before he sinks his teeth in.

keegan's canines make you whimper and turn your head away, but it helps to distract you from the burning. you really didn't think his dick would fit in you- he told you not to worry about that.

your hands being pinned against the spring mattress is disguised as sweet as he intertwines his coarse fingers with yours. you know he's holding you down with that and his own weight over you to keep you from getting away. he knows you won't even try it, but he's just making sure.

"almost there, princess- doin' so good." more and more gravel grates in his voice the deeper he presses into you, while your voice gets whinier in a way he wants to hear so much more of.

your grip on his hands gets tighter when you realize that his dick isn't all the way in yet. you already feel so full, like your organs are being pushed to the sidelines to make more room for him. tears prick the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling and keegan's lips spread into a bit of a grin when he sees them.

his hands were already getting harsh by the time you told him you'd never had sex. the hold he had on you had just gotten tighter, he'd kissed you rougher and promised that he would take such good care of you.

and he is, keegan would like to think, even when he pushes the last couple inches in much faster than the rest- he just can't help it when your little pussy is wrapping around him so tight and your breath is getting so shaky.

"ah-! kee-gan! haa- please-" you hiccup, brain matter practically melting out of your ears. the plea is a mix of wanting him to stay still and to start moving- you can't think well enough to figure out which option would overstimulate you more.

"aww- hah, see baby? told ya it would all fit- see, it's all here-" keegan's hand pulls yours down between your legs folded over his shoulders to press it down against your lower stomach. a cry pushes off of your tongue at the multiplied pressure. "fuck, gonna have to take you home with me, kid- this cunt was made for me."

the thought of keegan lifting your hips up and pressing his cock into you whenever he wants makes the little air you managed to get leave you lungs quick. if it means you get to feel this lava crawling through your veins again, you'd sit on his lap during the flight back home.

"yeah? hah, you want that? want me to take you with me? sweet girl- don't know what you're in for," he laughs. keegan's starting to creep his hips back, dragging his dick out of you until only the tip remained before he pushes back in a little bit faster.

"plea- mm, please- keegan, slo-w-" it's all you can do to choke out the bare minimum of your sentence when he's picking up the pace.

"what, you want me to slow down?" his patronizing tone is barely hidden. "you were doin' so well, where'd that go?"

keegan doesn't slow down but he stays at the same pace. there's some relief when he lets his hand up from your belly- he lets you regain control of the one hand and you use it to dig your nails into his forearm. you feel him cup the side of your face and he leans down until you're nose-to-nose. he looks smug.

"startin' to like it now, hm? y'just gotta listen to me, princess- i know just how to take care of you."

you know he's berating you for being nervous, but he is starting to become something you'll get addicted to. every time he bullies his cock back into you makes you believe him, believe that he knows what's best.

it's a losing battle trying to respond to him coherently. instead of wasting the little energy your body held onto, you tighten your legs around his waist and mash your lips against his. keegan groans into the sloppy kiss, hand moving to the back of your head to press you further into him.

he would swear that it's unintentional but his hips start smacking against yours, the sound evidence enough of how wet he'd made you. the hand still pinned against the bed is released in favor of grabbing your plush thigh. your knee is brought close to your face and you nearly wail.

"see? hah, what did i tell you?"

keegan's sighed words go straight over your head- he doesn't like that. he snakes his hand around and it grips your jaw, making your hazy eyes move to his.

sweat makes his face shine and his lips are cherry red; keegan's mussed hair and heavy gaze help to make him look almost as wrecked as you are. he leans over you until you can see the satisfaction of control in his eyes.

"what did i tell you?" he repeats. it's slower, demanding- enough to make you open your mouth against his hand.

as soon as you try to make a sound other than garbled moans and whines, keegan slams his hips into yours and keeps them there. the head of his cock grinds into your cervix and you choke on your air, nails drawing blood in his arms, eyes rolling back into your emptied head.

you feel the hand on your jaw jostle you a bit while he whispers patronizing sympathy, "hey, hey, stay with me kid," and "you can take me, princess, bein' such a good girl."

he keeps grinding deep into you, pressing your leg further into your chest- all your whimpers and strained pleas makes keegan's ego visibly inflate. it's something he knows he's already addicted to.

a spit out "fuck" leaves his mouth before he leans back up and effortlessly flips you over before you can even whine. it's no problem for keegan that you're body feels like it's made of jelly; you hips are hoisted up to meet his as he kneels behind you, already pushing his cock back into you.

it feels so different, like he's in your lungs now, your throat and your head. every bit of him invading every bit of you. you barely feel his hand drifting up your spine, until he reaches the back of your neck and pushes the side of your face into the mattress. when you strain your neck you can see his smile.

you cum in the span of the next few minutes, body shaking and back arching while keegan fucks you hard enough to push you up the mattress. he's groaning, muttering out more praises, how tight you are around him, how pretty you look like this, how he'll never get tired of this.

keegan slows down as the white-hot pleasure cools off inside of you. collapsing fully into the mattress, he huffs a laugh and pulls away, smacking your ass before he sits beside you against the headboard.

muscles slowly relax while you lay content- that is until about ten seconds later when keegan easily hoists you up onto his lap. once he has you situated, he lifts you up to line up the head of his cock again. he leans in close until his lips are brushing against yours. every time you try to close the tiny gap, he pulls his head back.

"ah-! you di- mmh- you didn't-?" you stutter as he pulls you down with one hand, the other wrapping around your back to press your chests together. fog still covered your brain, slow to clear; you're surprised when his stamina supersedes what you generally heard about men in the past.

he leans his head back as your hips meet again, a deep moan pulled from his chest. "shit, kid- so fuckin' tight still-" he grits out, already thrusting up into you. a whiny yelp escapes your lips before you're hanging onto his shoulders as he bounces you up and down, meeting you halfway every time.

sparks crackle in your stomach, your nerves still overly sensitive, and before you can even recover from the last orgasm you're about to cum again. he ignores your half-spoken question in favor of watching your tits bounce and groaning filthy words.

the last straw that breaks the flood in you is when he leans you back against his bent knees to fuck into you harder. you lose awareness of everything except him. keegan's keeping you grounded with his hands on you while he makes you feel so weightless, helpless against the pleasure he causes.

a growled "fuck-" is the only warning you get before keegan pulls you tight against him and buries his cock into you to grind into your cervix again. his hips stutter and his body goes taut while he chokes out moans in your ear. weak whimpers still come out of you every little bit, only serving to make his nails dig into your soft skin harder.

"fuck..." he repeats, a calm sigh this time. he lifts his head from your shoulder and takes your face in his hands. "fuck, baby, you're comin' home with me."

keegan kisses you and you kiss him back in agreement.

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ likes, comments n reblogs are always appreciated!!

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (2/?)

cw: stalking, noncon. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment.

"Are you listening?" The man in front of you asks the moment your gaze starts to drift off for the third time since you arrived at the office.

"Sorry. What did you say?" The dark circles around your eyes make you resemble a raccoon more than a human, the memories of your friends dying and their blood splattered all around the pale wallpapers. Images of nature that were supposed to be remembered as calming do the exact opposite, forever engraved in your broken psyche.

"Do you remember anything about the suspect?" The detective's voice is calm, laced with nothing but pure understanding and compassion, a man too passionate about what he does— and the man you're about to lie to, delaying the investigation of your friend's death just to save your own ass.

"Nothing other than what I've told you, sir. Everything is just so..." The pregnant pause makes him fidget with the pen in his hand, grey eyes focused on the way you look away from him, eyes squinting as you try to recall memories from that night, memories that are so painful he can see it written all over your face, making him feel a pang of guilt.

"It's okay. Call me if you remember anything else, yeah?" His warm hand rests on your shoulder after you get up, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile that is only met with weary eyes, making your way out without saying anything. There's hesitation in your steps, your heart almost beating out of your chest the moment you stop walking and look over your shoulder, briefly meeting his curious gaze.

“He had brown eyes.” Mr. Smith doesn't waste any time on adding the information to his notes, only making the guilt spread all over your insides like black mold, taking over what used to be your soul— it's all his now.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment, yet what do you call seeing the man who killed your friends everywhere you go? He's been taking over your entire life no matter how much you try to push the memories away, no matter how much you try to forget it all happened, only serving as a constant reminder that you didn't do enough.

Dreams colliding with reality isn't something new, yet your nightmares are so realistic that it almost feels like you were there. Even while you were hidden away in a dark closet, you can see your friends struggling against the much bigger, armed man, innocent bodies butchered while they were alive, a mess of limbs spread all over the rented cabin, blank eyes always staring at you, watching you run away and leave them behind.

Were you losing your mind? It all seems so real, to the point you're not even convinced you only saw your best friend die. Are you sure you didn't peek the kitchen the moment you cowardly decided to escape? The kitchen was blocked by a wall, and yet.

Cold water splashes all over your face, feeling the softness of your palm rub the skin, trying to come back to reality, to remind yourself that it's impossible to have seen the other bodies. The crime scene report is repeated over and over like a mantra, serving as a permanent reminder that you weren't there. No, not when only a body was found in the living room.

The person looking back at you in the mirror is a far cry from who you used to be. The dark circles in your eyes resemble more a dead girl walking than a real, healthy body, and perhaps that's what you are. If it weren't for the constant feeling of crippling dread and the tears spilling down your cheeks like a broken dam, you could've fooled a mortician.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the vanity brings you back to reality from your trip to Self-Pity Land, slapping some more water on your sweaty face before deciding to take a peek at the screen.

1:38 PM.

From: Ali💗

Almost there.

It's enough to make you scurry around the room, applying enough makeup to not make your friend worry, knowing that she wanted to get you out of the house just to give you a worthy distraction.

For what seems like the first time in forever, the corners of your lips tilt up into a smile the moment your friend wraps her arms around you, holding you close despite the odd stares you're getting from the people in the diner.

“Hey, you.” Her cheerfulness was contagious, to the point that even if only for a second, you get a sense of normalcy. A sense of community, despite your own feelings about the entire situation.

Your friend can talk for two. Something that you never noticed until now, listening to her ramble about anything and everything for the past hour. In a way, it gave you the chance to dissociate in peace, the words mixing together to the point they barely made sense anymore, completely entering one ear and leaving the other.

“He's looking at you.” Alina says in a teasing whisper, nudging you with her elbow. You give her a confused glance until she looks between the man and you, giving you the look.

Your gaze connects with a pair of baby blue eyes, forcing a sharp pain to cut through your soul. His eyes look too familiar, resembling the pair you see every single day in your nightmares. His entire demeanor screams ''cocky bastard'', manspreading on the seat of the table across from you, his arm propped up on the backrest.

“Awful timing, but I have to go.” Alina says with a small frown, though it quickly changes to a little smug smirk the moment she realizes the man is still looking at you. If she even notices your pleading gaze, it goes completely ignored as she gets up from the booth, giving you a strong, goodbye hug— and the stare from the man makes it clear that it might be the last one.

“Get some.” She teases in a whisper, quickly making her way out of the diner after paying for your drinks. You feel the urge to empty your stomach, yet there's barely anything there, only the slow-growing sense of pure dread the longer you keep staring at each other. Even when you force yourself to look away, you can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye, almost able to tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Leaving a halfway done drink behind, you make your way out of the diner, hoping that being out with more witnesses can save you. Is that really him? You barely got the chance to see his eyes yet you never saw his face, starting to doubt yourself the longer your tired feet drag you around the street. He could be an innocent man falling victim of your trauma, simply looking to get laid— you could probably use that, too, yet his icy stare and cocky grin is carved into your damaged mind.

“Need a ride?” A deep, gravely voice offers, nearly giving you a heart attack the moment your eyes meet his. Your hand goes up to your chest, trying to calm your fast-beating heart even when he gives you a reassuring, charming smile.

“No, thank you.” Your tone is far too polite and kind, still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt despite the fight or flight screaming at you to flee— to get away from the man you're now convinced is the same masked man who murdered your friends.

“Get in the fucking car, princess.”

The charming smile he was shooting your way is gone within a second, his icy gaze piercing through your soul now that he knows you saw through his bullshit. Your gaze drifts down to the hand lifting a part of his shirt up, revealing part of his dark, happy trail— and his handgun.

There's hesitation in your steps as you walk to the passenger's seat, already feeling the smoothie you drank starting to crawl up your throat, almost making you throw it all up, yet you do your best to hold it in, shakily getting into his car.

“… My house's up ahead.” You purposely give him the wrong address, trying to protect your family and yourself from the deranged bastard. The ride is eerily quiet, almost making you even more nervous than if he was trying to make conversation with you. There's no music playing, no humming— nothing, other than his fingers tapping against the steering wheel and his calm breathing.

“We're here.” Maybe you're reading him wrong, but there's hints of teasing bleeding through his deep voice, his eyes shining with mirth when you step out of his truck, making your way to one of the houses. You reach the front door after what feels like minutes, your hand shaking as you think of what to do. You can hear the engine of his car still behind you, not driving away even when you told him that's your home.

I don't want anyone else to die because of me. If someone opens the door, would he murder them too? He has a gun, and the way he brutalized your friends makes it clear that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty no matter the weapon. His loud laugh makes every single muscle in your body tense up, hesitantly looking back at him, the pure amusement dancing all over his face doesn't ease your fears in the slightest.

“Come back, sweetheart. I'll take you home.” And he stays true to his word, driving back in silence, his warm hand resting on your bare thigh. You don't dare look at it, simply staring out of the window, feeling every single callus on his hand while the scenery gets more and more familiar. The black mold in your soul spreads by the second, threatening to rot you from the inside out, bubbling up into a disgusting brew as he stops in front of your house.

Your eyes briefly meet his, his pupils starting to dilate the same way they did when he was done brutalizing your friends; just like a predator who has never failed to catch his prey. You never gave him your address— in fact, you didn't say a single word since you got back into his truck, yet he still found his way to your house.

It's all starting to make sense. Despite assuming it's all a product of your paranoia, you've been catching hints of the masked man everywhere you go, blue eyes always staring right into your soul.

“Not gonna invite me over for some coffee?” Technically, it is a question, yet you both know saying no to him is not even on the table.

“Sure… I can make you a coffee.” Perhaps inviting a serial killer is not the brightest idea, yet what other options do you even have? He knows where you live and the places you frequent, you're not safe anywhere. His hand drifts down to the small of your back as you open the entrance door, hesitantly letting him back into the only safe space you had, willingly allowing him to invade your life.

“Atta girl.” What should feel like praise from an older man only serves as additional mental torture, the sound of the door closing behind you making all hope of surviving him fade away.

“Come sit on my lap.” He walks to the living room as if it's his own home, not even asking for directions, simply being able to navigate his way around like he's been here before— deep inside, you know he has. Your nose starts to sting as he sits down on the couch and forces you to straddle him, your thighs around his, allowing you to feel all the muscle.

“Don't cry…” He taunts, only now making you aware of the hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your lips trembling as he pushes you closer by the ass, pressing your clothed cunt against his hardening dick. His face is buried on he crook of your neck, loudly inhaling your scent as his starts to grind against you, calloused hands roaming all over your pretty body.

“Wanna feel my cock?” The vigorous head shake you give him is enough to make him laugh, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your neck and shoulders, not caring about leaving any marks. You can barely register the sound of his zipper coming down until he's guiding your hand to his warm, hardening dick.

You're too shaky to even do anything about it, disgust and nervousness turning into a dangerous mix, yet Keegan is a patient man. A patient man who gently makes your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding your movements to jerk him off, getting even harder underneath your touch. Low grunts and muffled moans are spilled right into your ear, clearly getting off despite your very clear fear.

“You're doing so good, princess…” He murmurs. Keegan's free hand starts to sneak his way inside your shirt, slipping past your bra, his thumb brushing past your hardening nipple. Your brain is able to recognize that fight or flight aren't options anymore, so just like a wild animal trying to avoid a fight; you freeze.

Your shaky breaths mingle together, only interrupted by the low groans he lets out, his hand leaving yours for the first time, leaving you unsure of what to do. Despite the tears falling down your cheeks and the muffled whimpers, your hand keeps moving up and down his shaft, not wanting to die by his dirty, blood-tainted hands.

Keegan's mind isn't broken enough to not know it's wrong, yet it has been broken enough to the point he simply doesn't care. Thrown away by his brothers in arms and the marines, he doesn't have anything else to lose. No life purpose, other than to bring others the same pain he has suffered for years.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips as he moves your hand away from his cock, using his tip to move your underwear aside. His free hand goes to the back of your head, encouraging you to hide your pretty, tear-stained face on the crook of his neck, fully muffling your cries the moment he penetrates you. His dick is way too thick for his own good— stretching you open forcefully, despite the way he's actually going out of his way to make it as painless as possible.

“Shh, it's okay, kid. Just enjoy it.” He whispers into your ear, running a reassuring hand up and down your back, starting to move inside you, as if what he's doing could be even remotely enjoyable. A low, throaty moan makes its way out of his lips the moment he manages to bottom out, your body responding to the forced intrusion by getting you wet, not able to register that you don't want it.

Breaking you apart is the closest thing to religion he's ever gotten. Keegan's lips crash against yours as his hips start to thrust up faster and deeper, growing more desperate by the second despite how wrong he knows it is. He shouldn't be enjoying this, yet he's just a broken, terrible man, the little sobs leaving your lips only making him fuck into you harder.

The human body works in odd, awful ways. You don't want this, yet every single nerve inside your cunt is being stimulated by his long shaft, sending signals to your body that make it feel much better after you got wet. The small moan that gets ripped out from your throat makes him break away from the kiss, amusement written all over his face.

Keegan's forehead leans against yours as his hips rock against yours, his breath hot against your face. From this position, you're able to examine his face, taking note of as many details as possible in case he decides to let you leave, no matter how slim the chances are.

Thick, black eyebrows, buzzcut, dark scruff covering his pale cheeks. High cheekbones, light blue eyes, no visible scars or moles.

You repeat it inside your head like a mantra, trying to use it as a replacement to keep your head occupied from the knot starting to tense in your stomach, tightening up more and more with each thrust. You know for a fact you're hating this, yet your body is betraying you, coating his cock with slick.

He pulls out only to slam himself back in, dragging more pathetic moans out of your lips the moment he hits your spongy cervix. The stimulation is enough to make you hide your face on the warm crook of his neck, biting your thumb hard to muffle your own sounds the moment you start tightening up around him, finally giving in to the stimulation.

Your teeth sink deeper into your skin despite the small whiny moan escaping your lips the moment your forced orgasm hits, barely conscious enough to register the cocky laugh above you, feeling his lips connect against your temple, his breath hot on your skin as he manages to pull out, shooting ropes of thick cum all over your stomach.

“See? It wasn't that bad, was it, princess?” You collapse against him with a loud exhale, not able to hold it together anymore.

“Why…?” It's all you can ask, and you're not even sure about the reason you're asking why. Why did he kill your friends? Why did he let you live? Why is he stalking you? Why did he force himself on you? Why is he caressing your body like you're made of glass, as if he didn't just destroy you into thousands of shards?

“Because I'm not right in the head anymore.”

Taglist: @h0ney-mushroom @bangtandaze @elentiyaiswriting @lollycotton @sleepydang @billiousserpent As always, thank you so much @moosch for the amazing art!! 💗💗 world-building with her has been so fucking exciting and I'm happy to finally be writing about Slasher!Keegan after we've been talking about it for months!!<333

[loganwalkerz]

Please I’m begging for just a CRUMB of Keegan

Maybe he catches reader looking at his eyes? Because why wouldn’t they? Theyre just so pretty, like Opal. He’s so smug about catching reader oogling at him!

So sorry for answering this late!! Hope it's okay for you!<3

Keegan who knows how pretty his eyes are and he definitely puts it to his favour. He wants something? He'll flash those pretty opal eyes and give a slight pout knowing everyone's falling for it.

But when does he meet you? God, he really puts extra effort in. He usually wears some sort of shades, but when you come around, they are THROWN away, and he will give you a wink to watch you get flustered. And if he is feeling extra bold he'll walk over, lean against the wall you are near and lean down to your height

"Whatcha starin at? Something on my face?"

He'll comment in a faux innocent tone as you try stutter with excuses, he knows he's pretty and he think you are just as pretty. He'll make a few teasing comments with it too

"Ya know, me and you? We could be models if it wasn't for this mess."

He gestures to some files about the federation, Logans still missing and despite the fact Keegan does miss him he knows his friend wouldn't mind him flirting for a wee bit on the break

"What you think? Us on the runway. On magazines. Where we belong."

Keegan will rub a finger along your jaw staring down at your body admiring your figure, watching the way you melt under his touch and that's when Keegan realises that YOU have just as pretty eyes. Biting his lip at the lovesick puppy look you're giving as a quiet "Ah fuck..". As he realises he's just fallen extra hard for you.

You may of fallen first but this bastard fell a lot harder as he can't help but go red in the cheeks. Not knowing wether to take you as completion or take you as his partner. Probably the second one with the way his hands are grabbing your hips

[tojisun]

thinking about keegan fucking you from the back, his hand tight around the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip. he’s grunting and moaning, ever so vocal, because you love hearing his voice— “don’t you, baby? love it when i talk dirty to you? call you my needy girl? love it when i tell you how much i love this cunt? yeah? all mine, ain’t that right kid? yer all mine?”

im found dead xp!!