#Syverson x You

[f10werfae]

Pretty Girl

pairing: Dad!sy x Pregnant!Mom!Reader

summary: Baby Ellie has her daddy wrapped round her little finger, but so does her momma. After-all they’re his pretty girl (smut)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Hey pretty, c’mere and give me a kiss” Sy cooed nuzzling into his wife’s side on their bench swing in the backyard, his hands rubbing over her exposed bump which was housing their second baby. “mhm okay” She gave in ultimately giving him a soft wet kiss, having to push him away for a breath. “D-da d-da” Both their heads turning to face their 1 year old babygirl, who was settled on her play mat out in the shade.

Aika rested her head on her paws whilst on the play mat, letting baby Ellie rest her body against hers, ultimately using Aika as her backrest. The Syverson family was spending this nice summers day out on the porch, with Ellie clad in only a diaper just to keep her cool. “Yes my gorgeous girl, ya enjoyin’ bein’ out here with your momma and dada?” Sy cooed slipping off the bench and onto the mat a few feet away, Ellie was holding up her own bottle as she drank away, her other hand reaching up for Sy’s hand.

Ever since Ellie had seen the effect of the word ‘da’ on her daddy, she’s been using it ever since as a sign of a beck and call. “Da, da da” The soft curled bundle of joy tottered away from Aika’s body and wobbled her way onto her daddy’s lap. “Aren’t ya jus’ precious sweetpea, you n your mama n’ baby brother” Sy growled peppering kisses all over Ellie’s face until she started giggling and had to push his face away.

“Sy stop it and give her a chance” Y/n giggled watching, knowing damn well her babygirl loved giving out kisses too, Ellie’s lips already pouting out to land kisses on her daddy’s beard covered cheek. “mwah da” Ellie babbled happily, her curls bouncing with her, her hands on his shoulders to stabilise her standing up. “Wow babygirl, best kiss av ever gotten” Sy gasped hugging her tiny body to his immediately, carrying her onto his lap again.

“Da-da baba?” Ellie pulled away looking up with her innocent doe eyes, picking up her empty bottle up to her daddy, another small pout playing on her lips. “N' here I thought you wanted to cuddle with dada” Sy playfully scoffed settling Ellie down by Y/n, their babygirl wasting no time in cuddling on her mama’s lap, her head resting on her chest, her tiny hands feeling the baby’s kicks; her eyes twinkling watching Sy walk inside with her precious baba.

“got daddy wrapped round your lil finger baby” Y/n smiled nuzzling her head against her baby’s, pressing a big kiss on her cheek as she rocked her gently. “One baba per request” Sy said rocking back into the backyard, shaking the small lukewarm pink bottle in his hand, testing the temperature on his wrist before he handed it back to his little precious petal. “mm baba dada” She said handing it back to him.

Sy smiled picking up the tiny tot and sitting down beside his wife with Ellie laying across his lap as if she was a newborn again. His hands steadily holding the baby bottle to her lips as she suckled softly, her naturally wide eyes peering around the garden at all the different birds before settling on the baby blues of her dad. One of her hands reaching behind her for her momma and the other holding onto Sy’s hand that was holding the bottle.

“Think she’ll go down for a nap soon?” He smirked looking up to his wife, that same playful lustful loon in his eyes whenever his eye caught hers, his head leaning down to kiss and nuzzle against the side of her face like a possessive bear cub. “Oh yeah she’s your daughter Sy honey, fill her belly and she’ll be knocked out soon enough” Y/n swooned, leaning her body towards him as her hand patted down his soft stomach and body.

“See look her pretty lil eyes are already closing, must be the cool breeze helpin cool her down too” Checking her nappy was still clean, after about 15 minutes Y/n had burped and lulled her babygirl to sleep, ultimately leading her to put her down in her crib. Turning on the baby monitor and adjusting the room temperature, Y/n left the room slightly ajar as Sy and her retreated to hanging out in their shared bedroom.

“I ever tell ya how pretty you are? Especially when you’re full n’ round cus a’ me” Sy poses on the bed like a girl, his feet swinging in the air as he lay on his stomach, his hands cupping his face whilst he just stared at his wife. “Yes loverboy, you tell me at least every hour”

“That can’t be right, i’ll make sure to say it every minute then” He joked rolling onto his back, guiding her to sit on his lap, his hands immediately clasping around her body to cage her closer to him. “But seriously you are just gorgeous, jus’ how do you get even more beautiful the more life goes on” Y/n soon found herself feeling hot and bothered the more compliments and kisses she received, not to mention the subtle ass squeezes Sy had managed to squeeze in between his monologues.

“Stop it Sy please” She whined carefully tracing his brow with her thumb, trying to distract herself from looking into his eyes which were desperately trying to catch hers. “What can’t I pay my pretty mama compliments? I’m havin’ to stop myself ‘ere” Growling lightly he slightly jerked his hips up, letting her feel his hardened cock through his grey sweatpants, his torso bare. “Fuck Sy”

“I know baby m’sorry, I can’ help it, anytime I see you, smell you or hear you, the little guy gets excited n’ needs ya” Rubbing up her back soothingly under his shirt she was wearing, he felt her slowly start to shift herself back and forth on his lap, her wetness starting to leak through her thin cotton panties to create a darker stain on his pants. “Oh baby what are ya doin?”

“I need somethin Sy, seein’ ya be such a good daddy to Ellie and how you’re just so fuckin’ sexy it actually kills me” She suddenly broke out into a curse, seeing Sy basically move around the house was like porn for her, seeing him tend to the laundry and housework? She was about to bend him over if she could. Seeing him try his absolute best to lighten her load, even taking his babygirl Ellie out on his walks just so she could have some peace and quiet.

“You gonna use me baby? Get what you need momma, so fuckin’ pretty like this, my perfect angel, got my cock all swollen jus by bein you” He pushed back some of her hair away from her face, her expression furrowed as she quickened her pace knowing it wouldn’t be long before Ellie woke up again. “Y-you make me feel so good” Moving her underwear to the side she let her bare sensitive pussy rub against the fabric of his sweatpants, the head of his cock peeking out of the band as per her request.

“Hold on pretty-“ He gasped pulling down his sweatpants to his thighs, letting them feel each other’s skin as they humped against each other lovingly. Her swollen lips parted to hug around his shaft, covering his length in her slick wet juices, the lewd sounds filling the bedroom along with her whines and whimpers; the both of them being careful to not be so loud. “So soft” He would whisper out as his thumb caressed her sensitive nerve, watching her face contort whilst he stimulated her clit.

“You gonna cum for me pretty girl? Can feel it, come on baby I want it so bad” He whispered against her neck, his lips inching upwards until they reached hers. His tongue slipping into her mouth engaging it in a wet spit filled kiss, keeping her quiet. “M-m gonna come Sy” She whispered urgently feeling that band in her stomach grow tighter, with it eventually snapping once one of Sy’s paws wandered up to tug and rub at her hardened nipples. “Aww baby you did so good, m’ so prouda you pretty, makin’ yourself feel good on your man’s lap” He cooed in between grunts as he tugged at his hardened shaft to squirt ropes of cum onto her pussy.

“You proud of me” Y/n smiled hazily leaning back, massaging his cum into her pussy, her eyes peering at him as he brought her back in for a sloppy make-out session, leaving both their chins shiny with spit. “Fuckin’ best thing ta ever happen to me”

(this fic is not proofread)

———

PSA: Haven’t updated in so long but i’ve honestly just been enjoying my summer🫶Hope you enjoy this Dad!sy fic

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist: @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @cilliansangel @thoughtsofreid @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @sweetybuzz25 (comment to be added!)

[viking-raider]

Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Say It Again

Title: Say It Again

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Prompts: Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + "Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" + Smut, requested by @summersong69

Summary: Your man surprises you with a call, and you surprise him with a show.

Warnings: masturbation (f/m), Daddy kink, phone sex, Facetime sex, mention of bodily fluids, lovey-dovey Sy

Beta: @peyton-warren

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

It wasn’t easy having your man halfway across the world, but Sy was serving his country, and you loved him for that. It had been months since he was in your arms, but he always made sure to call, text, or send you a good old-fashioned letter whenever he could. His most recent letter included some spicy polaroids of him that drove you wild. 

You took the photo of him smiling at the camera and lifting a barbell over his head and hung it above your desk in your home office so that whenever you looked up at your corkboard, you were smiling back at your man. You could tell that this picture was taken at the end of his workout as his chest hair was plastered to his pecs with sweat and a pinkish hue dusted across his nose and cheeks. You were always a fan of his hairy chest; tangling your fingers through the curly, dark hairs was a favorite pastime of yours.

Then there is the other photo he sent. This one is your favorite, and it stays in your nightstand’s bottom drawer along with your sex toys. Amongst your vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and various other erotic aids is a Polaroid that is pure pornography.

In this most sacred image, Sy managed to take a picture of his gorgeous, hairy chest and his groin. But not only is he shirtless, but he is also holding his fat cock in hand as it leaks. The evidence of his orgasm litters his abs and pecs like a goddamned Jackson Pollock painting. How he managed to take this selfie is a mystery to you. 

You just can’t get your mind off of the fact that he wrote the sweetest letter to go with it. All lovey-dovey and ‘I miss you’ and then this erotic art falls out from between the pages. You almost gasped when you saw it, but instead, you bit your lip and whimpered before taking the picture into the bedroom and promptly masturbating to it.

It had become a habit of yours to think about that specific photo non-stop when you thought about moments with Sy. The thought of his deep baritone would lull you into a headspace where all you could think about was the way he whimpered and gasped for air every time he came. It turns out that the more you missed him, the sluttier and more willing you became.

Until one afternoon...

You sit in your home office, checking your email on your day off when you are interrupted by the sound of Sy’s ringtone. Runnin’ Red Lights by The Cadillac Three starts to play, and you smile before picking up your phone and accepting the call.

“Hey, baby! I didn’t expect to hear from you today. How are you?” Your cheery, bright voice denotes your surprise at hearing from your man.

“Well, today was a helluva day, and I needed to talk with my woman,” he drawls, his accent coming through the phone thick and sexy.

“You sound exhausted. What time is it there? It’s a little before two in the afternoon here,” you share, concerned that Sy is not getting enough rest.

“It’s almost eleven here. I should probably be sleeping; everybody else is. I just can’t seem to calm my mind. I figured the best cure to relax me was talking to you,” he hums. “Plus, I haven’t talked to you since before I sent my last letter, and I gotta know how you liked the photos.”

Shameless flirt.

“You ain’t even gonna ask how I liked the letter? Just straight to the porn you sent me.” You chuckle as he ignores subtlety.

“I already know you liked the letter because I’m a great letter writer. What’s on my mind at this very second is the thought of where you put the pics,” he muses, the smile on his face evident in his voice.

“Of course. I see your priorities are right on track,” you reply, playing along. “Well, if you must know, I am looking at the workout photo right now. I’m sitting at my desk, and it is staring down at me from my corkboard.”

“Uh-huh, let’s call that the ‘safe for work’ pic. What did you do with the other one, girl?” His voice sounded so deep and dark as if he had moved his mouth closer to the phone.

“For that one, I have to go to the bedroom,” you purr.

“Go on to the bedroom and get it for me,” he presses, and you can only imagine the look on his face is probably one of smug satisfaction.

You get up from your desk chair and walk across the hall to the bedroom. You sit on your side of the bed and reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand. “Alright, baby, I am in the bedroom. Just reached into the bottom drawer of my nightstand, and would you look at that? The ‘not safe for work’ pic is in there, along with all my favorite toys.” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and put me on speaker and then set your phone down in the charging stand?” he instructs, calmly yet strongly. You do as you’re told and tell him so. “Now I want you to take out a toy and play with that pretty pussy for me. And I wanna not only hear it but see it as well, so how ‘bout you accept my FaceTime request?”

You’re so busy trying to choose what toy to take out that your head whips up to see the incoming request. You momentarily wish you were wearing something a little more enticing, but then you remember this is the same man who can’t get enough of you, no matter if you are in your Sunday best or a big t-shirt and house slippers. You accept the FaceTime call and pick up your Big Boss vibrator and some lube, placing them next to you.

“There’s my girl, looking sweeter than Christmas morning,” he says, a big smile plastered on his face as he sits at a desk with one hand scratching his beard and the other out of view. He’s out of uniform, wearing a blue pullover and one of his favorite baseball caps.

You bite your lip, knowing that hand is probably wrapped around himself right now. “Christmas morning, huh? Well, how about I open your present for you, then?” You stand and turn your phone slightly on the charging stand so he can see you clearly as you undress for him.

You start with your old college sweatshirt, pulling it over your head so only your slinky camisole is left, hiding your upper torso from view. Hooking your thumbs in your sleep shorts, you slowly move them down your legs about halfway before turning around and bending over so he can see your cheeky undies barely covering your ass.

“You are teasing the hell outta me, but fuck if it ain’t the sexiest shit in the world,” he breathes, his arm visibly flexing as he appears to stroke himself.

You take pity on him and hold the bottom of your camisole, pulling it up your belly and letting it flop your tits out so he can see them bounce before tossing it to the ground. Next, you slide down your panties and kick them to the side before crawling back into bed. You adjust the phone again to make sure he can see you sitting with your legs spread as you pick up your vibrator. You turn it on the lowest setting and tease your nipples a bit, unable to keep quiet for long.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear all those noises. Fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he purrs, so eager to see what more you have to show him.

“Fuck, it feels so good. Wanna play with my pussy for you, Daddy,” you offer, already feeling your eager hole leaking with arousal.

“Yes, baby girl. Play with your pussy for Daddy,” he insists, licking his lips as he watches you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. 

You apply some lube to the vibrator and begin to slide it between your folds, letting it catch on your clit a few times and holding it there for a few seconds before moving the tip down to your entrance. You breathe in deeply before pushing the tip inside of you, staying still for a beat, then pushing it in further up to the hilt. You groan, and your eyes cross as you turn up the vibration speed.

Once you get your bearings, you look back up at your phone. Sy has repositioned his phone so that you can see him leaning back in his desk chair as his cock sticks out of his pants, his hand almost a blur as it rubs up and down his length. His pullover is rucked up and over his head, but his arms are still in the sleeves.

"Fuck, are you gonna recreate the pic for me, Daddy? Wanna see you cum all over that hairy chest while you watch me.” You babble, fucking yourself with your vibrator with deep, slow strokes.

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" He tsks at you and removes his hand from his cock. Crossing his arms, he lifts an eyebrow as he waits for an answer.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just miss you so much,” you whine, your sloppy pussy filling the room with a squelching sound. “I need you so bad.”

“Keep fuckin’ that pretty little pussy and cum for me first. After you cum, I’ll cum. You know how this works. Always make my girl cum first,” he warns, leaning back in his seat and lazily stroking himself as you watch. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp, pressing the button to increase vibration speed again. You bask in the higher intensity for a moment before leaning back on your elbow and planting your feet with your legs wide open. This gives you a better angle with which to hit your g-spot every time you thrust the toy inside yourself.

You mumble nonsense as you fuck yourself silly, your slick coating the toy and making it easier to dive deeper inside your pussy. Sy is there to cheer you on as you start to make the familiar moans of ecstasy that he knows only come before you explode.

“That’s it, baby girl. I can tell how close you are. Let go and cum for Daddy so he can cum for you, baby. Don’tcha wanna be a good girl for me? Come on, baby. You sound so damn wet for me right now. I bet I could slide right inside you with how fuckin’ sloppy that pussy is,” he rambles on, playing with his balls as his hand flies over his length.

Your tongue practically hangs from your mouth as you piston the vibrator in and out of you, hitting your g-spot over and over until you can’t hold it in any longer. Your breath hitches, your hand freezes, and you let out a wail as your body convulses and your walls flutter around the thick, vibrating toy. 

You gasp for air as you ride out your high, slowly moving your toy in and out of yourself. Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you look up to see Sy transfixed on you. He sees you watching him, and his hand moves impossibly faster, focusing on the head of his cock.

“Oh, baby girl. You looked so perfect cumming for me. You ready for me to cum for you now? Ugh, fuck, I’m gonna cum... I’m gonna-fuck,” he blurts, his hand working his dick through his orgasm as rope after rope of thick, white cum spurts from his tip. 

Just like in the picture, his chest is soon covered in cum. It just keeps coming, leaking over his hand to drip on his balls. The sounds of his gruff moans are music to your ears. His chest heaves as he dips his head back before looking back at you and smiling his goofy grin.

“Damn, girl! What you do to me should be goddamn illegal,” he yawns, stretching his arms out to the side.

“Haha, yeah, I must be such a bad influence on you. Might I remind you that you are the one that got us into this predicament? I only do what I’m told,” you tease, moving your lube and toy to the side to clean in a bit.

“Oh really? You gonna play the innocent game? Alright then, on that note, I need to get cleaned up, and so do you, sweetness. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I’ve got a meeting at the crack of ass in the morning, so I’m gonna let you go, ok?” He yawns at the end of his sentence, his eyes already starting to droop.

“Alright, baby. I love you.” You dare to clip your usual goodbye to see what he does.

“Unt uh, girl. Say it again and say it right. Come on,” he prods, his hand making a ‘come hither’ gesture.

“I love you to the moon and back and twice around the sun,” you profess, smiling wide as you say it.

“There it is. I love you, baby. You are my other half, my special person, and my very best friend,” he drawls, his tiredness showing in how his accent sounds thicker than normal.

“Sleep well, baby. I’ll talk to you soon,” you hum, beaming at the love of your life.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, love. Buh-bye,” he breathes, waving at you.

“Bye, baby,” you say, waving back. 

He winks at you before ending the call, sending your phone back to the lock screen. The photo you took at the beach years ago is staring back at you. Sy is standing with his back to the ocean, arms crossed, with a smug grin on his face. It’s your favorite photo of him—well, at least it was until he sent that picture that sits in your nightstand drawer. 

But you can’t exactly put that photo on your lock screen, can you?

A/N: This was almost too fun to write…oof, that Sy really gets my biscuit buttered.

[sillyrabbit81]

Fuse

Prompt: Sleepy & Lazy, Daddy Kink from @myaimlessuniverse (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 600

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, praise kink, probably some dd/lg vibes (I don't know! maybe!), p in v sex, Sy POV

Authors Note: Hi... Been a while... Probably not what you expected, but I swear I'm working on the Brotherhood, but I also have quite a few of these left so I thought I'd knock one out as a warm up for the smut I'm trying to write in the Brotherhood (the Brotherhood won't have daddy kink in it fyi) I'm not feeling Daddy kink like I used to and so I tried to write this a little different from what I had done before. Fingers crossed! As always I need to thank my amazing mate and reader @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated. I also need to thank @augustsprincess for her reading and suggestions.

It was edited by me, on the fly, there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

Sy tightens his jaw and he breathes out a ragged curse through his teeth as he slips past your slick, velvet folds and into your silken heat. He watches, enthralled by the utterly carnal vision of himself disappearing inside your impossibly tight core.

“Stop,” you gasp and he peers up at you perched precariously above him. 

Your thighs tremble beneath his hands and it takes everything he has to stop himself from grabbing your hips and sliding your blossoming core all the way down his cock.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl,” he says, dropping his gaze back to the explicit view between your legs. 

You’ve only taken the tip of him inside yourself and already he feels that tingle brewing in the base of his spine. He’s waited so long for you, longer than he ever thought he’d wait for anyone and he could barely stand it.

“Just a little more, I know you can do it.”

“Daddy,” you whimper. “You’re too big.”

He groans as sweat breaks out over his forehead. “Fuck, baby. You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, in a voice that quivers as much as your pouty bottom lip.

Sy’s heart breaks and he sits up drawing you to his chest. “Hush. You did so good for me baby. Daddy’s proud of you for tryin’.” 

With the tip of his cock still trapped within your snug pussy, he rocks you slowly, murmuring his sweet praise in your ear as he strokes your hair. His thumb caresses your cheek and he smiles when he feels your soft lips against his pad. His cock pulses inside of you as your plush tongue curls around him and you begin to suck. It doesn’t take long for him to feel your quivering body relax against him. He closes his eyes, content as he feels you hum happily within his arms.

He doesn’t really notice at first, he thinks the soft warmth enveloping his cock must be his imagination. Then he hears you moan.

“Babygirl?” he murmurs, softly.

“Hmm?”

He looks at your pretty head resting on his shoulder. You look almost asleep, your eyes seem to have trouble focussing and you’re still sucking hard on his thumb. But then you sigh and nuzzle into his neck while you roll your hips and there’s no doubt about it, you’re slowly sinking lower onto his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he growls into your ear. “That my good fuckin’ girl.”

Sy clenches his jaw to keep himself in check, each moment you rock your hips and take more of him into you is the most exquisite torture he’s ever had. 

“Am I doing good, Daddy?” you ask, hesitantly, dropping his thumb from your mouth.

He’s trembling as much as you were earlier. He has no idea how you can’t see how much you’re affecting him, that you can’t see that in this moment he’d give you everything, anything, just for a little bit more of your sweet pussy.

“So good baby,” he groans. “But don’t stop, Daddy needs more.”

He has to lay down, he has to see his thickness stretch you open. He holds your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he falls back to the bed. His mouth falls open as he watches the last of his cock vanish and your bodies completely fuse. 

He can’t hold it back, that orgasm that threatened from the start tore through his spine and his hips bucked up from the mattress. His eyes force themselves shut as hot pulses surge through him and even though he can’t see anymore, the image of your bodies finally together is burned into his psyche.

[doll-r-t]

My Baby Bear

Syverson x reader

TW: smut, suckling on breast, kind of sub!Sy

just a small drabble

Syverson is a sweet man. You would not have expected it, just looking at him. He had a reputation for fighting like a crazy bear. A myth, a legend, who could rip his opponent apart with just his bare hands. You are not one to believe in these kinds of things. However, seeing how broad he was you were tempted to.

When you first met you were polite but ultimately stayed away from him. You knew how army guys could be and growing up surrounded by men like that made you put your guard up immediately. You had feared that Sy was one of those men, who were sexist and thought he was the big bad alpha, getting into fights to prove that and that over time he would be violent towards you. So, you were nice to him but not interested.

However, you had caught Syverson’s eye, and over time you realized he was not a crazy angry bear. So, while all the men looked at him like an alpha in your eyes, over time, he was a big giant teddy bear. Always up for cuddles, carrying you over every mud puddle. It was a dream come true. You had always loved teddy bears since you were a girl. And you still had one, that you had gotten as a birthday present.

You loved cuddling into his chest, the thick coarse hair there tickling your nose making you giggle. He was so warm and his hands so big and rough it was astonishing how gentle he was with you. You often called him teddy, and when you were asked why you just grinned up at him like a child looking at ice cream. It was hardly visible under his big beard, but he would blush and just grumble.

When you were cuddling in bed, him on top of you, between your legs, snuggling into your neck and holding you close. You would caress your fingertips across his back and nuzzle into his hair. Whispering: “My baby bear”. When he was still awake, he would grumble and the first time he had pulled away giving you an unimpressed look. But you had not stopped so when he was tired and you held him like this calling him baby bear, he would hug you closer to him.

However, what surprised you was once when he was very sleepy and needy, he let out a whining sound. He pressed closer to you, wiggling down toward your chest. You had stayed still just waiting, watching what he was going to do. He nuzzled into your chest, the top you were wearing pulling down in the process. You continued caressing his hair. After a minute he looked up at you, his eyes clouded with sleep and need. You just nodded urging him to go on.

He buried his face in your chest, slowly making his way toward your right nipple. He latched onto it. Suckling it gently into his mouth, just enjoying your nipple in his mouth. He kept his teeth away. Normally he would nip at them, quite aggressively. He was just a big boob man.

Yet, this time he lazily suckled on your breast, whining occasionally when you were caressing his hair, and back. You lifted your left hand when he opened his eyes, some insecurity about what he was doing in them. You cupped his face and urged him on to continue. Tracing his jaw and cheek with your hand. “Good baby bear.” He hummed. “MY good baby bear.” When you empathized my he gave a whine, trying to grab at you wherever he could.

He continued to suckle on your breast, while slowly humping the bed, whining more and more. When both your nipples were sore, and it started to hurt you pulled him off a little. He was panting and moaning more and more, rubbing himself on the mattress. He did not go too far, and you saw that he was close to coming. You wiggled a bit lower underneath him. Pushing down the sweatpants until his pre cum leaking cock sprung free. It was hard to grab his cock as he did not help you at all. Still laying on you trying to mouth at you. Finally, you managed to grab him. You ushed your panties aside and wiggled lower to slowly rub him onto your dripping slit. He gave a loud whine and pushed his hips, seeking you out. You held in a chuckle never having seen him like this.

Finally, he entered you. He was as deep as he could in you, filling you up. You just held him for a bit, clenching your vaginal muscles and coaxing soft moans out of him. He nuzzled into you more, almost crushing you with his weight. He only pushed out a little bit before he could not stand not being fully in you. It took him only a couple of thrusts and your praise of him being a good baby bear. Finally, he came with a soft whine, and even then, he did not pull out just laying on top of you, suckling on your neck. Unable to not have a part of you in his mouth. You could feel how he got heavier and heavier and his breathing got more even that you moved. You moved up a bit more, so his head was on your chest, and not his full weight on you. You gave him small kisses on the top of his head and held him while he slept.

Please leave comments and reblogg :)

Taglist:

@tumblnewbyy @irishprincess899 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @sofiebstarr @omgkatinkaa @enchantedbytomandhenryy @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirll @pjkimrnn @zealoushoundd, @lunedelorient​, @tragicphoenix13​, @alexa-fangirl-forever​, @vhjlucky13​ @bourbonwithice, @identity2212

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

What's the occasion?

Masterlist

A/N: What this was supposed to be: A fluffy comfort fic about reader's husband taking care of her after a rough day/week/month. What this isn't: A fluffy comfort fic about read.... you get me.

What this somehow ended up being: A not-so-fluffy not-so-comfort (?) fic about reader's husband taking real good care of her after a rough day/week/month.

You're welcome, I think? (I honestly don't have a clue how this ended up being some of the smuttiest smut I've written to date... But it happened... I'm not even going to question it.)

Pairing: Syverson x reader (you)

Summary: You come home from a terrible day at work, thinking you have about a thousand things still on your to do list, only to find your husband has taken care of all of that, and has also made you the first thing on his to do list.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, SMUT, MINORS DNI. oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v sex, Sy being all dominant and massive, some light (yes, really) throatfucking, hair pulling, manhandling. Some of this can probably be considered blasphemy.

Also, fair warning: this story contains a man doing household chores without having been (explicitly) asked to do so. Just... Bear with me. I know it's not realistic, but we're here to have fun, right?

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

Parking your husband’s truck in your driveway is an absolute nightmare. It takes you twenty minutes and a breakdown – during which you fight yourself over whether or not to just go inside and ask him to park his stupid car for you – but you eventually manage. Now, it’s time to go inside, after the longest day at the office in the history of long ass days at the office, and do the six million other things that come for free with having a house, husband, and kids. Dishes. Laundry. Dinner. That stuff.

You toss your bag down on the bench next to the front door and put your coat on the overflowing coat rack six times – it keeps coming down because for some reason, your teen daughter owns 12 jackets, yet she still always asks to borrow yours seconds before telling you that all of your clothes suck – before you finally give up and leave it where it falls.

It takes you a minute to realize that you smell food. With three kids and your mountain of a husband, that can only really mean one thing: someone got hungry, your plans for dinner are now in ruins and your kitchen looks like an episode of Hoarders. And even though those are your expectations, your family still manage to exceed them every time, so God knows what you’re going to find when you round that corner and step into your kitchen...

It’s Sy. And it’s not just Sy, but it’s just Sy. Come to think of it... The whole house is suspiciously void of music, screaming or shoes scattered around for you to break your neck over.

“Where are the kids?” you ask as you walk towards Sy.

“With my mother,” he replies without turning around, “to be returned to us on Sunday night at eight, and not a second before then. Are ya goin' to make a habit of not sayin’ hello to me when you get home? ‘Cause I don’t care for it.”

“Well, excuse me for not taking the time out of my busy schedule for pleasantries, but I have a week’s worth of laundry to get to,” you snap. He doesn’t deserve it, you know that, but it’s the kind of day you’ve had, and... And it’s all on you again.

“Laundry’s done,” Sy says calmly, still not looking up from the lasagna he’s putting together.

“Oh,” you stammer. “Well, then I’ll just grab the vacuum and...”

“I did that, too.”

“Alright, I’ll give the garage a quick call to see if they can...”

“I changed the oil in your car this morning.”

“Groceries?”

“Done.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve obviously got a handle on dinner...” You have to admit it: you’re a little stumped. “What about...”

“Woman, if you’re lookin’ for somethin’ I didn’t do so you can blow up at me for it, I’ll just hand it to ya: I didn’t get to cleanin’ out the gutters today, so I’ll have to do that tomorrow.”

But you’re not planning on blowing up at him over anything...

“Well, hello Mr. Syverson,” you say, still completely in awe that your entire schedule for the night – and probably the whole weekend – just opened up. “Remind me... We got married in October, right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Syverson, we did.” He’s even less subtle than usual, skipping your hips and putting his hands on our ass right off the bat.

“So, what’s the occasion?” you chuckle. Sy pulls you in for a kiss, just passionate enough to leave you wanting more, but not so bad you beg him to take you right here on the kitchen counter. It’s a fine line, really. A tightrope you’ve tried to walk before, only to fall off on the wrong side and be late for yet another dinner with someone who was never going to be more important than having sex with your husband, anyway.

“The occasion is... You’re beautiful. You deserve it. You do so much for our family and somewhere along the lines I seem to have started takin’ that for granted. Take your pick, I’m sure there’s plenty more reasons to come up with.” He squeezes your ass. Hard. “This sensational ass could be the occasion?”

“You’re saying you got rid of the kids for the weekend and checked off my whole to do list to celebrate the existence of my ass?”

“Sugar, I celebrate the existence of that fine ass every damn day. Now, I’ve fallen a little behind on celebrating the existence of the woman attached to it... I’d like to make up for that.” There is absolutely no way you aren’t blushing right now. Sy doesn’t let go of you, but his hands move to your waist. You’re trying your best to not drown in his eyes, but you’ve been hopelessly lost in there for nearly twenty years. For a brief – but lovely – moment, you stand there, just holding each other and making eyes like you used to when you were young and in love. And young...

“This needs about half an hour in the oven, still, so how about I give you forty-five and you can take a nice, long shower?” Sy winks at you – or rather: tries to. “There’s something on the bed I’d love to take off of you later tonight, but I also understand if you just want to wear something comfortable.”

“Did you pick it?” you tease him.

“You’ll be more than happy to know that I did, but under the very strict supervision of Dana.” It seems like your dear husband has finally learned how to use the fact his best friend’s wife works in a lingerie store to his advantage… Took him long enough.

“Right on time,” Sy says as you step into the kitchen. You take the glass of wine he’s holding out to you and take a sip.

“Mmm...” The sound you make is almost a moan. One look at the bottle on the table tells you this is a really nice wine – one from a price range you can’t afford to shop at...

“Gift from a client. Walker said I could take it. I guess his wine cellar doesn’t fit any more.” Sy pulls you in for a hug. It doesn’t last long, but it’s nice, very nice.

Dinner is amazing. Sy is a great cook – when given means, motive, and opportunity – and he has prepared three courses of absolute heaven. He only has to assure you twice that the price of the ingredients won’t put your family in financial ruin.

You’re halfway through dessert – a deliciously indulgent, rich chocolate mousse you’re fairly sure he made from scratch – when you realize something.

“You can’t have done all the laundry. We don’t have the space to hang all of that...”

“I fixed the dryer,” Sy interrupts, “I’m sorry I only did that after it became a problem to me, personally.”

“That’s alright...”

“No, it ain’t,” Sy grins. He knows you.

“Very well, then. I accept your apology. You’re forgiven.” You remember the moment you knew you were going to marry this man: right after your first fight – he had been wrong, although you can’t remember what he’d been wrong about. It had had something to do with your mother. Either way, right after that fight, he’d apologized, and for some reason the lack of excuses had made you want to jump him right where you were standing. You’d almost broken up with him when you realized you weren’t half as good at apologizing as he was.

“Alright, well,” Sy smirked, still. It was incredibly attractive, and at least as annoying. “I was planning on makin’ up for that, but now that I don’t have to…” His voice trailed off for a moment before you gently nudged his leg with your foot.

“How about we finish this bottle upstairs?” You don’t need to tell him twice: he’s on his feet before you even finish the sentence.

“You go ahead, Sugar,” he says before kissing you as gently as a giant like him can muster, “I’ll make sure this kitchen is spotless before I come up.”

“Oh, Mr. Syverson, you are killing me.”

“Oh,” Sy adds with a grin on his face, “and you were right. The vacuum cleaner sucks, we need a new one.”

“Say that again…”

“The vacuum cleaner sucks?” He knows damn well which part you’re referring to. That wasn’t it.

“Before that.”

“Ah. You were right.”

“You have ten minutes to get to bed, or I’m starting without you,” you tease, knowing very well he wouldn’t mind one bit if you did start before he got there.

Sy is impatient as ever when he finally steps into your bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head before the door even shuts behind… Alright, maybe the door doesn’t close because he just leaves it wide open.

“Sy! Close the door!” you shriek, but he just takes a few more steps until he’s right next to the bed.

“Why? Kids ain’t home. We’re alone, we don’t need to close the door,” he says as he pushes you back onto the mattress. “We don’t gotta be quiet, either.” With a devilish grin on his face, he kisses you. First your lips, then your neck. His beard doesn’t tickle – not after all these years. He shaved it off once, only to immediately get on growing it back, because you wouldn’t give him any. You move your hands through the hair on his chest while Sy roughly pulls your shirt over your head. He groans appreciatively when the bra he picked out for you appears.

“Do you like it?” he asks. He doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to picking stuff that’s actually to your tastes, but you’d be lying if those items didn’t have their own special little drawer – that you definitely haven’t opened in far too long…

“I do,” you purr into his ear, biting your lip when he grinds his hips into you. He’s hard, seeking friction, release. You love when he gets this worked up over you. “You did a good job.”

“Hm,” he growls, “I didn’t like it at first. Thought it was kinda boring.” That’s not what you want to hear… It’s a good thing he opens his mouth again to continue: “But now that it’s your tits in there… Can’t decide if I wanna keep it on ya or rip it off…” To your surprise, he opts for the former, making sure to kiss every inch of skin that’s newly available to him as he makes his way down your stomach, dragging you to the edge of the bed as he goes along.

He can do it within minutes. Making you come on his tongue, that is. He never does, because the smug fucking bastard likes teasing you too much to ever give you what you want – nay, need – that quickly. That patience, however, is nowhere to be found when it comes to taking your clothes off. He admires you and your new underwear for maybe five seconds, and then your panties are somewhere in the room. No, you don’t care where, exactly.

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re beautiful,” Sy growls from between your legs. “I’ve missed this sweet little cunt.” His words used to startle you so bad you asked him to stop talking multiple times when you’d first started going out. Now, they just make you blush, and they make you wet, and that’s all that you need from him right now. Sometimes, you’re still grateful for the moments he can’t speak – when his mouth is otherwise occupied, so to speak. It’s the moaning, and growling, and the grunts and obscene slurping – hideous word, but sadly the only applicable description – sounds that get you. It’s the pleasure, and the way he knows exactly how and when and where to move his tongue to make you squirm, moan, and scream in his strong arms. Unfortunately, he still isn’t exactly at that point. He’s still teasing, and you’re still whining, and no one is coming.

In no time, you’re going nuts. It’s not bad enough to speak up. And by that you mean: beg him to finally eat you in that way you both know makes you see stars and seek God and scream His name – or Sy’s, but what difference does that make, anyway? Instead, he keeps you right there, at the point where you’re just invested enough in the fantastic feeling that you want to be consumed by it, but it just isn’t enough to keep you from getting distracted. By the feeling of his beard against the inside of your thighs. By the fact that your panties somehow ended up on the lamp on his bedside table. By the gentle pulsing of the vein in his forearm your finger currently rests on. And he keeps you there, and keeps you there until you’ve almost convinced yourself you’ve gotten so used to this – to him – that he can’t do it anymore, forgetting that he really isn’t even trying. That twenty years of ‘this’, whatever the fuck that may mean, just means that he’s found so many different ways to take care of you that he couldn’t go through all of them in one night even if you could physically take it, simply because he’d run out of time before he made it halfway through the list.

And when you get there, to that point where you start thinking he might just not be as good as he used to, you’ve lost. Because from then on, it’s a minute. Thirty seconds. Maybe even twenty, or ten, or less – not that you’d know, because you couldn’t count to three anymore if you tried.

“Darlin’, you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he mutters, never taking his lips off your skin completely. His fingers tease your entrance, pads coarse and calloused. It appears that, even after all these years, you still haven���t learned that if your mouth won’t beg, your body will. Unconsciously, you angle your hips, lean into his touch, use your legs to pull him closer – and he answers. As always. Sy knows what you want, and he doesn’t think twice to give it to you, even if – possibly especially when – what you really want isn’t what you think you want. He’ll know, just like he’ll know exactly when his name is on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be released along with everything he’s building up inside of you.

A loud moan escapes you when his fingers curl inside you, diligently working the perfect spot while his tongue laps at your clit, looking for the perfect move, speed, pressure, everything, until you shriek the words ‘oh God, Sy, don’t stop’, or you gasp, or moan – or one of the million other ways in which you tell him what needs done without saying a single word. And he doesn’t stop. Not until he unravels you completely. Not until you remember why you normally close and lock that door and keep quiet. Not until you know with every fiber of your being that he holds back, and he reminds you of everything he’s capable of.

When he comes back up, caging your body in between his strong arms and broad chest, pinning you down on the mattress, you hope he’s had enough time to catch his breath, because you immediately pull him into a long, deep kiss that says more than just ‘I missed you’. If it was at all possible to stress every syllable of a sentence, now would be the time. But who’s got time for talking when that impatient bulge grinds between your legs, the heavy, coarse fabric of Sy’s jeans harsh against your sensitive skin.

You push against his shoulders – it’s usually pointless, but he seems to have grown at least as impatient as you have, so he gets up. Four hands reach for his belt. You always make a great team, but this is madness, and neither of you are surprised you don’t get anything done this way.

“Move those hands if you wanna keep ‘em, Syverson,” you say with a sly smile on your face. He grits his teeth when you look up at him – it’s one of the things you know he loves to hate, because it drives him insane, and he doesn’t like that. Sy wants to be in control. Tough luck. Getting him naked is child’s play now that his hands aren’t in the way anymore, and you can’t stifle an appreciative moan when his cock appears in front of you.  

“I’m not saying I married you for this big dick, but it didn’t hurt your chances.” You bite your lip and look up at him. The amusement at your words fades off his face within seconds, making room for something darker and more sinister than you usually get to see.

“If you can use that mouth to talk, you can use it to suck my cock,” he says. You’ve played this game a thousand times, yet you’re still stupid enough to open your mouth in protest, and he seizes the opportunity. “That’s a good girl.” There’s a hint more… savagery to his naturally dark and gravelly voice than you’re used to hearing under normal circumstances. It’s a possessive, almost animalistic sound. It’s something that used to scare you when you were first going out. Something he didn’t let you get too closely acquainted with until he knew for sure he could trust you with that side of him – the side of him that sometimes just loves to shove his cock down your throat in one smooth thrust until you’re gagging and fighting back tears. Tonight is exactly the night you want every inch of him in the exact way you haven’t had him in for the longest time.

Your eyes beg, and once again he listens. How one man can be made up of so many contradictions, is something you’ve accepted you might never find out. ‘He gently fucks your throat.’ It sounds completely insane, but it’s possible. And you know it’s possible, because it’s happening. To you. Right now. If that weren’t the case, you probably wouldn’t have believed it yourself. He’s kind and ruthless at the same time, moving in and out of your mouth with controlled movements while moans and profanities escape him with reckless abandon. His hand is tangled in your hair, gathering a good portion of it in his fist, gripping just tight enough to remind you he’s there, but not so tight you’re in pain.

“God, baby, I love fucking this pretty li’l mouth of yours,” he says, teeth gritted, eyes closed, and the expression on his face warped in such a way that tells you it’s taking everything he’s got to keep whatever composure he has left at this stage. “But I gotta tell ya,” he continues as his breathing grows more and more ragged, a low growl barely audible on the exhale, “this ain’t what I need right now.”

He effortlessly tosses you back onto the mattress, finding his way between your legs in no time.

“Baby, I want you,” he growls before he kisses you again. “I need you. Need your tight, wet, fucking pussy around my cock right now.” He doesn’t move away from you much as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He’ll be deep, too deep, maybe, and you know you’ll regret this in the morning – but what good has regret ever done anyone, anyway? As he pushes into you, you realize he’s on his last bit of restraint. You take one last good look at him, because after this, it’s going to hurt so good you won’t be able to keep your eyes open for so much as a split second.

“Careful,” you chuckle, already far more out of breath than you like to admit, “you’re too much for me.”

“What’re’ya talkin’bout, woman?” Sy grumbles. “I know you can take me.” He’s not wrong. Exhibit A would be the fact that he buried his cock in your tight pussy with that one, agonizingly slow thrust. The next one is neither slow, nor even remotely as gentle, making you moan as you pull his face down to yours and kiss him. Your legs are trembling on his shoulders within minutes, and you find yourself chanting his name religiously – making it just about the only thing in your life you’ve done in that particular manner.

“Good God, you’re amazing,” Sy growls in your ear as he bottoms out with every erratic thrust. You watch as his jaw clenches when you dig your nails into the flesh of his back, careful to avoid the scars – an unwelcome souvenir from his time in the army. Most of the memories of the times you accidentally caught one in the heat of the moment have faded away by now. It hasn’t happened in years. You could draw a map of his back: every muscle, every scar, every mark on his skin is etched into your brain, and will stay there until the day you die. He’s yours every bit as much as you’re his, although he likes to put a little more emphasis on the latter.

“Want me to fuck another baby into you?” Hearing him say that makes you realize how incredibly happy you are that he can’t make good on that threat anymore. Sy hadn’t been happy when you’d informed him that you were bestowing upon him the incredible responsibility of contraception after having baby number three, but appointments were made, surgeries were had and all was right with the world. He’d only pouted and moaned about shooting blanks for about six months until things went back to normal.

“Do your worst, big guy,” you tease. You heard his breathing when he asked his question, felt the sheen of sweat covering his whole, massive body as he continued pounding you into the mattress with the same relentless pace as before, only slightly wavering in rhythm… You pull him close, gritting your teeth to get through the cramp in your leg as the weight of Sy’s body forces your legs closer to yours. “Fill me up.”

“That was mean,” Sy mutters, out of breath.

“As if you would have lasted any longer!” you say as you slap him in the face with a pillow. “I was about to tap out, anyway.” Not one word of that is a lie. You wouldn’t have walked for a week if you’d let him keep going. It really was a good thing he was a little on edge already…  

“Fine, woman, have your victory,” he growls as he pulls you into his arms and lifts you off the bed. “Ready for another shower?”

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 17

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,512

Rating: no one under 17. I'm not responsible for what you read. Kindly police yourself.

Chapter 17

August glanced over his shoulder into the back seat. Three weeks and two surgeries later the hospital finally agreed to let Debbie go home. She still had a long road ahead and it still didn't guarantee a full recovery and her anxiety was through the roof at times and at other times was so depressed she was nearly catatonic and a few normal days scattered in between. She was refusing to eat and in general sulking like a brat. Sy hoped getting her home would help.

Mike had been released after a week and a half. Walt had taken custody of him and Napoleon and Will were staying with them as security until everyone was jailed, including the corrupt cops. He was recovering physically but emotionally he was distant and shutting them out.

Geralt turned onto the long, tree lined drive admiring the land and imagining what it looked like in summer. He loved the country and a working ranch brought a warm feeling to his heart. He drove past the barns where a few work trucks sat along with ranch hands tending horses noting a beautiful chestnut mare before turning his attention back to the drive. Finally they pulled up in front of the large ranch style home and parked. Everyone got out, Sy helping Deb out and lifting her into his arms bridal style while Geralt and August got everyone's bags.

Deb took a deep breath of the fresh air ecstatic to smell anything besides anesthetic and medicinal scents that she'd been trapped in for weeks. 

“Where's Aika?” Deb asked, seeking out their furry friend. 

“She's with my sister and the kids. They are bringing her home tomorrow. “ He gently bounced her in his arms. “Where would ya like to get comfy sugar?” Sy asked as they all walked in. All the Christmas stuff was still up even though it was after Christmas now because they hadn't got to celebrate yet.

“Bath.”

 “Baby,” he started but was cut off. 

“Bath,” firmer.

“You want to wash off again?” He could see wanting to smell like their soap and not hospital bath in a bag shit so he started toward their ensuite bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the bed with her bad leg up and started gathering clean clothes for her.

“No Sy, a real bath.”

He turned to her. “You know you can't get your leg wet Deb. Your stitches could come apart or you could get an infection.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.  “I don't care. I've not been in a bath or even a shower in three weeks!” When he arched his brow at her and crossed his arms over his chest she sighed and stood shakily on her good leg. “I'll do it myself!”

“Sit down!” He yelled and stepped forward. She sat down and blinked up at him with wide eyes. He hated yelling at her after all she'd been through but he refused to let her act out like that. “Little girl, you will not hurt yourself or cause any further injury just because you want to get your way.” He gripped her chin in his big hand and forced her to hold eye contact. “I'm gonna try to get you into the bathtub but if it doesn't work I will give you a sponge bath and you won't fight me on it. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” She agrees . “I'm sorry I yelled. I just feel so dirty and I haven't… I know I've been washed but I just

.. I still feel their hands on me and i…I just want to wash it all away.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. 

Fifteen minutes later she was perched on the vanity in nothing but a shirt and bulky leg brace that went from her upper thigh to her ankle. 

Sy was filling the tub with water when something hit him in the back of the head. “Woman,” he turned to face her, suddenly realizing it was her shirt she'd thrown and she was now sitting on the vanity completely naked. “Fuck,” he rasped all blood flow in his body going straight to his dick. 

“I hope so,” She grinned,  crooking her finger and beckoning him to her. When he was close enough she fisted his shirt and pressed their mouths together in a heated kiss. Sy pressed against her, hooking her good leg over his hip and she felt him pulsing against her through his cargo pants. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Are you hurting?” He asked as he wiped a tear away with his thumb.

She shook her head , eyes locked with his while she tried to get her emotions under control enough to speak. Swallowing past the huge lump in her throat she pressed her hand to his bulge rubbing it and relishing in his sharp intake of air. “You still want me.”

“What? Of course I want you Deb. You're my life.” He didn't understand how that could even be a question but he could see the doubt in her eyes. “Debbie?”

“I just,” She didn't know how to express how she felt. Like she couldn't form the words much less say them. “I…”

“Talk to me darlin’, please.”

“Sy, the water,” She pointed to the nearly overflowing tub.

“Fuck!” he ran over and shut the water off just before it spilled over the edge of the tub. He laughed but drained enough of the water that she could get in without it pouring on the floor then went back to her. Cupping her face in his hands he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Please talk to me. Don't shut me out Deb. I know you remember the hell we both went through when I tried to hide my thoughts from you. I was lost in my own hell and putting you through it too. We promised to tell each other everything after that, remember?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. When he was recovering from his POW time he felt like he was too much, not worth the work, or the love she had for him and he tried everything he could to make her leave him but she refused. It nearly broke them both. “i..I'm not the one for you. Not your soul mate anyway. You're settling for me because I'm safe and comfortable.”

Sy felt like someone punched a fist into his chest and was crushing his heart. “You're my world Debbie, my heart, my everything. I'm sorry if I haven't shown you what you mean to me. Please, give me a chance to….”

“Austin, no! It's not that at all. You treat me like a queen and I know that you love me!” She hugged him tight. “This isn't about anything you've done or not done. It's about me. It's about me not being enough. I mean family is everything to you and your mom hates me. I turned your dream ranch into an animal rescue because I needed to feel like I was doing something helpful. I just latched on to you and didn't even notice that you weren't settling down or or ,” he head was pounding.

“That I haven't given you a ring so you couldn't possibly be what makes me happy? Isn't that what Lindy told you that night at the restaurant?” When he watched her he'd dip down because she couldn't look at him he gritted his teeth. “I haven't given you the ring yet because I wanted to be sure I could be the man you deserve,  that I could overcome the PTSD enough to give you a life, sugar. It has everything to do with you but not how you're thinking. I was so afraid of not being good enough I didn't show you how much I can't live without you.”

She shook her head, “No. It's not your..”

“We both said that but clearly there is a problem, sugar because you are doubting us.”

“Doubting me,” She explained quietly.

Realization washed over him and it all became crystal clear. She'd been his rock for so long he'd forgotten how she was when they first met. The chip she had on her shoulder because she felt like she had to prove she was good enough, that she could be the best at everything. He took it as a woman having to prove herself in a man's military at first but the more he was around her he realized that she was afraid to let anyone close, trusted no one to even have her six. She lived like she herself was the only one in the world she could trust or depend on. It led to a lot of being reprimanded, write ups, push ups, pull ups, and finally a talking to that finally made her see thongs from Sy's point of view about having to trust her team or they were all in danger. That was when he really started trying to get to know her in earnest, when he eventually learned about her abuse and abandonment. She'd come so far and he'd been through so much that he didn't realize she needed reassurance he wasn't giving her. He was a fucking moron. 

She gasped when Sy grabbed her face and kissed her and didn't stop until her tense muscles finally relaxed against him and she was breathless. She didn't even register him removing the leg brace until he was lowering her into the hot water, careful to keep her bad leg resting on the side of the tub. She sighed contentedly as she leaned back. Sy chuckled, “Feel good?”

“So good!” 

They both jumped at the knock on the bathroom door. Sy stood and went to see who it was.

“Your sister is here,” Geralt told him. “She needs to talk to you.”

“I'll be right there,” he sighed. He went back to Deb. “You stay put. If you aren't in the same position you are now when I get back I'm going to spank you until you can't sit and when that ass starts to cool down and feel better then I'm going to do it all over again and again until I feel like you learned your lesson and if I get tired I'll let Gearlt and August takeover.”

She fully intended to protest but what came out of her was more of a strangled whimper. He cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.  “I'll be good, I promise.”

“I know you will, sugar.” 

Sy went to speak to his sister and Debbie soaked in her hot bath. She sat still for a bit but really wanted to wash. Chewing her lip she pondered if grabbing the soap would be against the rules. Stretching her arm out she reached the soap without moving her butt at all and took it as a victory. Lathering up her bath puff she started washing herself. Once she felt squeaky clean she grabbed her razor and started shaving … everywhere. After three weeks she resembled a sasquatch except the leg and arm (shoulder) they'd done surgery on. When that was done she settled for a few minutes but quickly got bored, she was all alone after all. “Oooo jets!” Pressing the button the jacuzzi jets bubbled to life and massaged her sore muscles only with her bad leg up at an awkward angle it exposed her to the full force of the jets causing her to jerk and gasp. The pain that shot though her leg was almost instantly replaced with need as she used her finger to further expose her clit to the jet. Using her other hand she slipped two fingers into her slit working them hard and fast chasing the pleasure she didn't realize she needed so badly. Turning her body a little toward the side of the tub the jet hit the perfect spot and even though she couldn't reach the spot inside due to her awkward positioning the jet was doing the trick. Her hips slowly started to flutter as she threw her head back and whimpered through her release moving her hand away from exposing her clit as the pulse of the jet became uncomfortable. She hadn't noticed Sy come back in or even approach until she felt his fingers pushing into her still quivering hole. “Fuck!” She squealed at the stretch and shock of it.

He lifted her ass up out of the water enough to latch his mouth onto her clit and switch between sucking and licking until he'd made her cum two more times, the last time screaming out his name with a series of loud moans.

Sy got her out of the tub and carried her straight to the bed. It was tall enough that he could just bend her over the edge, carefully resting her bad leg out to the side up on the bed leaving her open to his hungry gaze. “You ready for me sugar? Gonna take my dick like a good girl?”

“Please,” he begged, trying to rub her ass back against him. She gasped when his big hand smacked against her ass leaving a burning ache in its wake.

“Be still, your brace is still off. You're in trouble as it is, little girl.” He grinned when she went still, knowing she was thinking about the spanking he told her she'd get if she moved earlier. He took the distraction to push himself in up to the hilt causing them both to moan at the sensation. “So fuckin tight for me, like your made to fit my dick.”

All she could do was moan incoherently as he railed her from behind, each thrust causing her to gasp as he pounded against her cervix. It was painful but the pull out and push in up to that point was bliss. She was losing the battle of control over her body and clamped down on him as tight as she could, wanting to give him some of the pleasure he'd Given her.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled as she squeezed him so tight he thought his brain was coming out of his cock. Reaching under her he started rubbing her clit. “Cum for me. I want to feel you come apart when I fill you full of cum.” A few more circles to her bundle of nerves and she was rutting between his cock and fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” She cried as she exploded around him and he emptied inside of her, the wet squelching sound of their combined releases echoing in the room as he collapsed breathlessly beside her.

Tag List

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

@liecastillo

@mollymal

[georgiapeach30513]

Kinktober 2022, Day 23: Water Play

Filthy Little Peach

Summary:  Sy has a new toy for you

Pairings:  Captain Syverson X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, toy play, D/s dynamics, choking, slapping, degradation, cock worship, temperature play, sex denial, overstimulation, mentions of somnophilia, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  650

Previous

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

“Peach, I’m home,” Sy’s large body walks into the house, and you struggle to right yourself.  Pulling down his shirt, and you stuff that toy in the drawer.  Jogging out to meet him at the bedroom door.  “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“I’m not,” you try to steady your breathing, and he looks over to the bed.  It was made, but there was now a bit of disarray.  “You’re home early,” yeah, you know that was a pitiful attempt at hiding how breathless you were.

His hand cups your mound quickly, and he tilts his head, “Oh, Peach.  Why are you so fucking wet?”

“I knew you were coming home.  My pussy always gets ready for you.”

“You were playing with yourself, weren’t you?

”“No, Captain, I wasn’t.”

He backs your body up to the dresser on his side of the bed, and opens up the toy drawer.  Pulling out your favorite toy, and he holds it up for you.  “Why is this so wet, and it smells, just like you?”

“I was horny, Sy!  I need to be fucked!  Please, just fuck me!”

His hand wraps around your neck, and he pushes you into the bathroom.  The power he has physically, but also has over you making a fresh flood go right to your sex, it was intoxicating.  “Why…where are you taking me?”

“Get undressed,” all you lack is pulling off his shirt, and when you do, he gives your tits, and pussy a few slaps.  “Since my wife likes playing with toys, I got a new one for you.”

“Sy, I want your cock!”

“And I told you that if you were going to play with yourself, I wanted a fucking video call or photo every time you need to get off, and I didn’t get that.  Now, get in the fucking tub,” his voice was low and gravelly, and even that makes your pussy quiver.  “Go on.  I’ll let something new stimulate that pretty clit.”

You sit into the tub, while Sy reaches into one of the cabinets, bringing out his new toy for you.  He enjoyed making you weak before he fucked you.  It was a pleasuring torture, but today, you just wanted that thick cock.  “Uh-uh, spread your legs.  I want to see that dirty filthy little cunt.”

He ties the new toy to the water spout, and turns on the water.  Pulling your body down, until the water flows over your cunt.  Your eyes roll in the back of your head, because it truly felt amazing.  The water is soft and yet still beating hum on your bundle of nerves.  He turns the temperature of the water cooler, and you whine at the change.  Leaning back on your elbows, your hips thrust you into the tiny waterfall.  Turning the temperature back up, your head tilts to the side.  And Sy stares lovingly at your cunt.  Your voice mewls out his name, because it’s him you really want.  “Cum,” he growls, putting the water on full speed.  

“Ahh!  Ahh!  S-s-s-Sy!” Had you not been in the water, you’re sure you would have made a mess.  Your hand goes to grasp his arm, but he pushes it back in the water.  “Sy!  I came, I want you now.”

“Fucking is a reward, and you haven’t been good.  Now I’m going to make you cum in this bathtub until you pass out.  And then, you’ll get my thick cock.  But you’ll be so blissed out, you won’t even feel me.  And I’m going to fuck you so good.  Choke you, just how you like.”

“Sy, please, don’t.”

“Oh yes.  And maybe next time, you’ll listen to one simple rule.  Is it that hard?  Or have I fucked you that stupid?”

“You have.”

“Don’t butter me up, Peach.  You’ve been a bad girl.  I’ll fuck you into the mattress, and all that will remain is how fucking sore you’re going to be.”

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re so bad.  My filthy little Peach.  Now, lean back and let me enjoy watching this magnificent cunt.  You’re ruining my view.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @infatuatedjanes​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @peaches1958​ @whimsyplaty92​ @rebekahdawkins​ @johndeaconshands​ @thedarkplume​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @sgtjaamesbaarnes​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @km-ffluv​ @mickeyhenrys​ @awkwardgiraffe726​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​

[hope-to-hell]

Captain Syverson Masterlist

Rope

In the Present Tense

To Welcome Him Home (comment fic)

Sy and the Sex Tape

Care Package

Nova

[voxmortuus]

►PAIRING: Capt. Syverson X F!Reader ►UNIVERSE: Sand Castle ►WORDS: 898 short first chapter ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: You are a female solider, so naturally you're walking into a "male dominated territory." Syverson and you naturally but heads, not a fan of his abrasive ways and his lack of giving a shit for most things. In your eyes, he's unprofessional. You and him start off with this wit he brings out in you, tensions start to build. Eventually you two realize there is something there between you two, but being who you both are, this forbidden fraternization just can't happen, but over time, words are exchanged, and hot heavy moments happen. Soon you're discharged and sent home, eventually you and Syverson end up with the happy ending you both deserve but it will absolutely be trying and hard to get there. Do you have the guts to stick it through? Does he have the means to learn to control his urges? ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Reader Angst | Syverson Smart Mouth | Reader Smart Mouth | Reader Syverson Tension | Foul Language | Sexist Comment ►NOTE: I want to thank @mrsevans90 for the inspiration to create a Syverson Series. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►My Master Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

What was this? What was this your life had come to? You weren't upset, you weren't mad, maybe a little afraid and full of adrenaline as the plane landed, but what was this feeling. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, let alone a piece of your brain. A blanket of sand coated your boot the moment you stepped foot onto the ground. It was that moment you realized, one, there was no keeping these things clean, and two, this was really happening.

Sitting in the back of the vehicle after your briefing you head to your post, looking around you everything in, no idea what was to come, who you were going to meet, let alone the kind of people you were going to encounter. Everything was such a rush, and it caused your heart to beat so loudly in your chest you could hear it as if it was in your head.

Upon arriving you were greeted by a few random low ranked people, but it was the captain that caught the attention of you and the rest of the soldiers. Sure there were other females, but not very many, but he picked up on you right away. It was your typical speech. You know the "Don't be a dumbass, don't get shot, don't do blah blah blah..." But in standing there, you felt the tension, but maybe it was your own tension.

In your mind, sure he was handsome in that... way... that bend be over the desk, pound me into next week spank my ass pat my head and call me a good girl for a night kinda way, but let's face it, it had been a while since you've had... company and it had been a long while since you've had enjoyed some good quality company. But right now, that needed to be pushed farthest from your mind.

"I said... fall out." Syverson stated looking at you.

Looking around you clear your throat and shake your head do just that. Had you really zoned everything out? Seems like it. With a clench of your jaw you head to your post and settle onto the cot you were assigned to and get a few things situated.

New day, time for a new take on how all of this was going to go. Simple work it was right now anyway, but you were going to be working closely with Syverson. Great. You had no idea how any of this was going to go. But it didn't take long for you to realize just how much of a pain in the ass he was going to be.

"Well, you're female, you know how to make a good cup of coffee?" he asked, joking, mildly.

Rolling your eyes, you look at him. "You know, I hate coffee, so no." Okay maybe a mild lie, but still, none the less, you weren't wanting to deal with his jokes.

"Well then looks like you'll need to find a new post." He chuckled.

With a slight sigh, you place his coffee on the table and look at him and shaking your head you take a seat. "What is on the agenda for the day, Sir?" You ask.

Looking at you he points to a large stack of papers. Papers? What the fuck? You look at him with this look of seriously? But you sit down and he shakes his head. "Jesus don't take it so literal... you think I want you to do paperwork that isn't even mine? I don't even do paperwork. Let's go." He sighs and heads out to the squad outside the tent and calls for them.

After a short briefing on what's expected today, he looks at you "Does that answer your question?" He smirked.

Oh if looks could kill. "Kill em with kindness." you hear in your head, something your mother and teachers would say. You simply nod, give a very blank smirk and lick your lips. "Yes...Sir." You state flatly as you fall out and walk in the other direction.

It was a cluster fuck to say the least, the tension over this first week had only grown thicker and a little hard to ignore. Most people picked up on it and had joked and jested about it. How you had a crush on him, but yet they didn't joke or jest toward him having a crush either. What the fuck? So, it was always you that had the crush? Fuck that! He was annoying, arrogant, self-absorbed, entitled, and to be honest, he was a bit of a beef cake.

it put a sour taste in your mouth, just because you were a woman meant you were the root of all evil, you were the one who had the crush, and you were the one that was going to pollute his mind. You'd pollute his mind, but not because you were trying to, but because he was the one with the crush. He was the one that wanted you. He was the one that polluted his own mind.

Sure, maybe as time went on you and him would see eye to eye, but right now, you wanted to poke him in the eye... with the end of your grenade pin and hand him the grenade and walk away. Little did you know that would all change. You'll just have to wait and see.

[f10werfae]

Daddy’s Princess Fairy

pairing: Husband!Dad!Sy x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: Sy comes home to his newborn babygirl and wife after his last ever deployment, and he’s desperate to meet his tiny twin, and get into his wife’s panties (Dilf Sy) likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Daddy’s nearly home booboo, he’ll be out here any second now” Y/n cooed bouncing her baby girl in her arms, the two month old softly snuggled against her mama, the both of them waiting at the entrance of the military base along with the other families. Her eyes tracing each body that left the aircraft, her breath hitching when she saw her big hunk of a man step out, his head shaven but his beard grown rough and long. God he looked filthy but so sexy.

Biting her lip she saw him take off his dark sunglasses as he scanned the crowd carefully, his lips pulling into a smirk once he saw his baby momma waiting at the back, away from the crowd; holding his baby girl. Practically skipping all the steps he threw his bag to the ground, his built arms bringing his wife and newborn into his arms, this was his first time home since that night their daughter was conceived. That one special night by the fireplace.

“Fuck pumpkin, missed ya n’ your sweet self s’much” He grumbled inhaling her scent deeply as he grazed his nose up and down her cheek, his other hand cupping his daughter’s head, this would be the first time he would see her in person. “And this- this is Penelope, Penelope Syverson” Y/n giggled holding up Penelope up to Sy, and even he could see she already was his twin, the same grouchy look already.

“She’s stinkin’ adorable, i’d say jus’ like her momma but i’m seein’ frowns on her already” Sy chuckled seeing his babygirl whimper and wiggle, leading Y/n to place the tiny babe into his arms, and just the mere size difference between the father and daughter was enough to make a witch’s heart melt. “She missed you, anytime you wasn’t on the phone she’d cry and whimper until I played your voicemail” Y/n explained tucking Penelope’s bib a bit more, seeing how she was drooling onto her daddy’s arm.

“Awk babygirl you break ma heart, m’not leavin’ again, I can’t do it- that’s me done” Sy chuckled bending down and kissing her forehead, breathing out a sigh of relief, he was finally discharged and able to start the rest of his life. “Damn right you aren’t leavin’, we still need to give our bubby a brother” Giggling Y/n latched herself onto his arm, the happy family walking towards the pickup truck waiting for them; Y/n watched on as Sy carefully put his pride and joy into her carseat, pouting up at Y/n when he realised Penelope wouldn’t let go of his finger.

“Babe, jus pull your finger out come on” Y/n laughed as he shook his head, “no can do sugar, don’t want my babygirl thinkin’ am leavin’ her again, can’t be her first heartbreak”

“If ya let go i’ll give ya some of your treat when we get home, after I put Pen down for her nap” It hadn’t even been two seconds but Sy carefully pulled his finger out, kissed his baby bye bye, and jogged over to the driver’s side of the pickup truck. “Now ya gotta keep your promise, wait- are you even okay down ‘er” Sy questioned looking concerned down at her crotch, he knew how hard the healing process was for his wife, needing stitches and medication. It honestly broke his heart that she had to go through it alone, but she was strong and independent, just his typa woman.

“Yup! Doctor gave me the green light a while ago, jus wanted to surprise ya for when you got home, Captain Syverson” Y/n winked grabbing a handful of his thigh tightly, his eyes widening and smacking her hand off, “Jesus woman didn’t ya read the sticker on the car? There’s a baby on board” He joked intertwining their hands and kissing her knuckles, leaning forward and pressing a heated kiss to her lips, his beard scratching her face in the best way possible. His tongue venturing out to lick over hers, tasting his favourite watermelon lipbalm causing him to groan into their kiss.

“Forgot how much I missed these luscious lips of yours” He growled pulling away, kissing her lips once more before sitting back in his seat to look at her, his wife. “Yeah? What else did ya miss” She giggled leaning over and pulling him back towards her, both her hands holding onto his as she looked up at him, her fingers then playing mindlessly with the wedding ring on the chain around his neck.

“These other lips down ‘ere” Laughing his hands smoothed up her thighs, settling under her dress, right on top of her panties waistband; he could already feel that it was those cotton white ones that he had a thing for. She just knows him so well. “No you didn’t”

“I did” She winked pulling up her skirt enough to show the start of the soft cotton pants, pulling the skirt down fast enough once his fingers tried their way up again. “Nuh uh mister, only when the angel is bed do we get to play” She scolded turning the ignition on for him, watching as he scoffed and turned his attention to the road

-

“Alright princess fairy queen, ah need ya to get to sleep pronto” Sy whispered into his baby’s tiny ears, the tiny tot sleeping on his bare chest, her head nestled comfortably on the curls on his chest. Her tiny fist clutched peacefully as tiny gurgles and coos came out every time she hiccuped or moved. “Princess fairy queen? Really Sy?” He heard his wife ask from the nursery door, clad in her white silk robe, very clearly not wearing anything underneath.

“I need my little girl to know she’s the best of ‘em all, n’ that means callin’ her every nickname on God’s Earth so she knows how much ah love her” Looking down at his tiny tot, he felt the need to lean down and nuzzle his nose with hers, pulling away instantly when he heard a toot. A fart.

“Now was that from me or you?” Sy frowned holding her up to face him, her tiny eyes clearly shocked, her own farts had woken her up just from how loud it was; “Tell ya what bubby, you’re definitely your daddy’s daughter”

“Yeah there’s now way that loud thing came outta this tiny precious sugar cube” Sy questioned seeing the tired girl had gone to sleep in his arms again, thankfully for Sy’s sake she didn’t need changed, well not yet anyway.

It finally seemed like baby Penelope finally got the memo when she finally stayed asleep in her bassinet, after 20 minutes of him just whispering pointless happy memories of him and her momma, many soft baby back rubs and head scratches and of course with her binky in place. Princess Penelope was down for her nap. Now Sy could have his wife, any way he darn wanted.

“Momma, you spoil me too much” Walking into their shared bedroom Sy saw his wife, her robe untied as she laid on the bed waiting for him, a chocolate covered strawberry already in her mouth as she winked at him, her legs spread open showing off her glistening folds; she needed him as much as he needed her.

“Irish twins?” Y/n asked plucking the strawberry from her mouth, licking its juices from her lips as she quirked up a brow; Sy doing nothing but growl and rush to get rid of his white t-shirt and cargo pants. “I’d give ya irish triplets if it were possible” He snarked climbing on top of her, his body hovering over hers as he bit into the strawberry that was back in between her lips, his teeth squeezing the juice down the valley of her tits. His delicious welcome home treat, just for him to enjoy.

———

PSA:Hope you all enjoy this bit of Daddy Sy 😗

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist (not accepting, please use library)

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See you all again very soon xoxo

- Fae

[viking-raider]

Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader 

Word Count: 951

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU. 

Warnings: apocalypse AU, accidental pregnancy, language

A/N: A submission for @the-slumberparty BINGO challenge. My bingo squares include beach day, family friend, accidental pregnancy, and apocalypse. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist  

As you sit just past where the water rushes on the beach, you can feel the mist of the water on your face. Sea salt is in the air, and you relish the smell. You can remember coming to the coast with your family as a child. 

Of course, that was before the world decided to end. Before you had to change your entire way of life in the blink of an eye.  

Now, moments like this are but a distant memory. Your shoes are off. Your toes are buried in the sand. Saliferous wind from the ocean is blowing through your hair. Next to you is a duffel bag full of essentials, at least what you could grab on short notice.  

Escaping the compound turns out to be a bit trickier than you had hoped. But with a close friend at the guard station, you sneak by and out of the gates without a second glance. You make it out of town before dawn, watching the sun rise over the water. 

By now, you know that your superior officer will be conducting roll calls and noticing your absence. You did not care enough to go back, but you wish your brain would stop letting you worry about what was going through their brains. 

‘Is she alive?’ For now, yes. 

‘Did she go alone?’ Technically, no. 

The distant sound of tires on gravel does not surprise you. Neither does the noise of the rusty truck door opening and closing. The softness of sand being kicked up by big boots creeps up to the side of you. You do not have to look up to know who is next to you, but you do anyway. 

The dusty old camouflage pants with thigh holster and sweaty brown plain t-shirt gave him away in an instant, but your eyes continue higher. His unruly beard covers his irked expression, his mouth set to one side as he chews his inner cheek. You’ve known him long enough that he chews his cheek whenever he gets upset. 

He looks down into your eyes and you watch as they wander across your form. 

“Your brothers are worried sick about ya. I told ‘em I would come to look for ya,” He sits down in the sand next to you, “Runnin’ ain’t gonna fix our little problem.” 

“Our problem, Sy? First, it is not our problem. Second, it is not a problem. It is a baby. And this baby wasn’t exactly planned, I understand that. But I don’t expect you to do anything. We can get by on our own.” Your voice breaks and you hate that your eyes are blurry with unshed tears. 

“I wasn’t callin’ the baby a problem. And if ya think I’m lettin’ ya raise this little hellion on yer own, yer outta yer damn mind. Now, yer brothers are my best friends in this whole damn world. And yes, they’d kill my ass if they knew I got you pregnant. But they’d resurrect me and kill me again if they knew I’d let ya off on yer own. Shit, I’d kill my ass too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it does nothing to stop the fat tears that escape when you blink your eyes. The shuddering breath you take is enough to have Sy scooting closer to you and bringing you into his arms. 

“Don’t cry, Sweetness. We’ll figure this out. Together,” He kisses your forehead and snakes a hand down to your stomach, “Let’s give ‘em a chance, alright? Make a better world for ‘em and all that nonsense. I can’t fathom losing both of ya, let alone either of ya.” 

“We should have been more careful—” 

“Well, we weren’t bein’ careful. And now, we got a kid on the way. So what? Every time we face a little trouble, you gonna run?” He wipes away your tears, looking into your eyes again. 

“I’m really scared, Sy. What are we going to do?” The tremble in your voice has Sy holding you tight. 

“Well, to start, we tell yer brothers about the baby. Then, whaddya say we go over to the doctor, have everything looked at? Make sure he’s growing fine and everything.” 

You laugh, not able to hold your amusement. “He? You already know it’s going to be a boy?” 

“Well, ya know my folks had five boys. Yer parents had two before they had ya. Odds are it’s gonna be a boy, Sweetness.” 

“I’m a little shocked. What changed your mind about everything? You were not this verbal when I told you yesterday.”  

He bites his lip, looking out at the sea before answering. “I guess I was too scared to admit how I felt about ya. And then, outta nowhere, you give me the best gift in the world, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” He takes a shaky breath, then continues, “I’m sorry I waited ‘til now to say it, Sweetness. I love ya. I love ya, so damn much. And nothing would make me happier than to raise this little one with ya.” 

You climb into Sy’s lap, holding his face in your hands, and resting your forehead against his. “I love you too, Sy.” You lean in and slot your mouth against his. You allow him to take the lead as his hand tangles in your hair. 

Pulling back, you smile at each other. Nothing needs to be said. You turn in Sy’s lap and watch as the waves crash in and out. You have each other and you have this baby. With a love that burns bright like yours, neither Hell nor high water would be able to snuff it out. 

A/N: Title taken from There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths. It seemed perfect for this story. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel @geralts-yenn @rebelangel1102

[sillyrabbit81]

Curious

Prompt: Possessive & Rough, Mutual Masturbation from @martha-oi (x) Thank you!

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (m & f), fingering, thigh riding, pearl necklace... or pearl jewellery, I don't know, it is what it is, descriptions of body fluids, rough kissing and touching.

Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mate and reader @nashibirne , your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.

If this feels a bit rushed, thats because it is. I'm supposed to keep these around 500 words, but you know... Its Sy, I love him. I'm sorry, I hope its enjoyable anyway.

I'm sorry, but I barely had time to read over it, it was edited by me, on the fly there will be errors

Dividers by me.

Masterlist

Celebration Masterlist

The normally quiet Camp was full of men shouting insults, off-key singing and dirty r’n’b lyrics. Part of you wanted to join them, but you thought it wouldn’t be appropriate. Not only because you were the only woman on base, it was also because you were a journalist, and you knew that despite having access to all areas of the base and free reign to follow the team on any and all operations, in the end, you weren’t one of them.

Still, you are curious, it is in your nature. So you sneak down the hall and peek into the raucous room. The sight that greets you makes you smile. The men are dancing like no one was watching, a bottle of something being passed between them, glow sticks stuck in helmets or held in their hands like microphones that two or three of them sang into. 

You watch a few moments, taking note of the differences in the faces and body language. You had been embedded with them for a month, seen them laughing and joking, but this is the first moment that you truly saw no lines of worry on their faces and no tightness in their shoulders.

A small glimmer of jealousy ripples through you. It isn’t that you resented the guys having a good time and relieving some stress, it is more the fact that you had no such outlet. You are the outsider here, the ODA was a tight unit that you would never be a part of. However, you would be leaving in a few days, back to the comforts of home, while these men would still be here for months, you know you shouldn’t begrudge them these rare moments of levity.

Sighing, you back away, leaving the men to their fun. You barely take three steps and you walk into what feels like a brick wall.

Two large and strong hands gripped your shoulders and stopped you from falling on your face. They turn you around quickly and you’re face to face with the Captain.

He stares into your eyes, studying you and you can almost see the calculations and assumptions he’s making. His fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms, his grip is firm but not tight, still you don’t think you would be able to pull away if he didn’t allow you to.

Without breaking eye contact, he nods in the direction of the room. “You joinin’ the party?”

You shake your head. “I was just leaving.”

He lets you go. “Good. My guys need to blow off some steam. Can’t do that when they’re worried ‘bout slipping up and sayin’ shit that’ll end up splashed all over the papers.”

You roll your eyes. 

He lets out a grunt that is half amused and half annoyed. “You better get outta here ‘fore they notice you.”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t answer to you?”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t give a shit?” 

You open your mouth to retort but he gives you a curt nod and turns, swaggering down the hallway like he was John Wayne or something. You watch him walk away and not for the first take a moment to enjoy the view. He may be a bit of a prick to you sometimes, but the sight of his tight ass and thick thighs straining his camo pants and broad shoulders stretching his t-shirt, sure make forgiving him a hell of a lot easier.

Abruptly, he pauses at the door to his room and looks over his shoulder at you. “You comin’ or what?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you see him smirk at catching you staring at him. It’s also not the first time you’ve been caught checking him out. To be fair though, you’re fairly certain you’ve seen his eyes linger a little too long on your breasts before. You never called him out on it though, in fact, you kind of liked it.

You lift your chin and clear your throat before asking, “Where we going?”

His smirk grows. “To blow off some steam of our own.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before he goes into his room.

“Cocky bastard,” you mutter. You follow him, your curiosity getting the better of you once again.

He’s standing next to his bed, a similar bottle to the one the men had in one hand and two glass tumblers in the other.

“Close the door,” he says, that smug grin still on his face. He places both glasses on his desk and starts to pour.

You warily close the door and your skin prickles and a restlessness starts to build in your joints. You look around the room, trying to appear calm so Sy doesn’t notice your agitation.

“Is this how you normally blow off steam?” you ask. “Drinking alone?”

“Honest answer?” he asks, handing you a glass.

You raise your eyebrow at the amount he poured. Jesus that much would knock you on the floor. He sits on his bed, backing himself into a corner so his back leans against the wall and takes a sip of his drink.

“Off the record?”

You roll your eyes and follow him to his bed, mirroring his position on the opposite end and raise the glass to your lips.

“I usually drink with the guys for a bit then come in here and jerk off,” he says so deadpan that you gasp, causing you to inhale a not too insignificant amount of liquor.

You cough hard, tears coming to your eyes as you try and catch your breath. Sy’s large hand thumps you between your shoulder blades, then starts to rub your back.

“Shit, for a minute there I thought you were being serious,” you rasp out when it doesn’t feel like every breath burns your trachea.

“What makes you think I’m not?” he asks just as seriously as before and just as deadpan. 

He’s close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. The hand that was on your back is now on your shoulder, the tips of his fingers caressing the back of your neck.

You turn to look at him to gauge his seriousness. His blue eyes sparkle with their usual amount of mischief, but instead of the accompanying grin, the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips. It disappears into his mouth followed swiftly by his lower lip which he sucks on briefly then he drags his teeth over it before it returns to its rightful position.

You turn away quickly, your breath comes in hard. God, what would that look like? It’s not like you hadn’t been curious. You’d never seen a man do that before, not in real life anyway.

Equally as hard as your breath is the hand that wraps itself around the nape of your neck, the fingers working deep into the muscles.

“I have to go,” you say.

You stand quickly. Too quickly. The ground spins around you as waver and you throw an arm out to steady yourself with Sy’s shoulder. 

He stands with you, his hands firmly on your waist as he draws you close. 

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he says roughly. He lifts your chin making you look into his eyes that burned with a fire that rivalled the one growing between your legs. “Stay here. With me. No one’ll notice, not tonight.”

He was so close, his warm breath tickles your lips and smells like mint and alcohol. You inhale deeply through your nose and smell soap, barely a trace of the usual hint of sweat. You study his features, something is different, there’s none of the usual traces of dirt or sand. You look down at his shirt, it’s clean.

Holy shit.

“You planned this?” you say. It’s part question, part accusation.

For the first time this evening he hesitates, his eyes dart away and licks at his lips. 

“So what if I did?” he says eventually, bringing his gaze back to yours.

“I’d say you were one sneaky and presumptive bastard.” 

“Sugar, you say the sweetest things,” he chuckles.

Scowling, you try to look away but he holds your jaw firm and walks you backwards until you hit the wall.

“Don’t fuck with me li’l girl,” Sy says in a voice as rough and jagged as gravel. “I’ve seen you watchin’ me, eye-fucking me, pressing my fucking buttons. You knew what was gonna happen when you walked in that door tonight, don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Maybe I just like riling you up,” you say, pushing your hips into his. “Maybe I like knowing that when you blow off steam, you’re thinking of me.”

“Now who’s bein’ presumptive?” Sy grins.

“I’m not wrong though. Am I?” It’s a stab in the dark really, but as you slowly sway your hips, and brush against the front of his pants Sy clenches his jaw. 

“Not one bit,” he admits through his gritted teeth.

“Show me then,” you say.

Sy’s brows draw together and he leans his head back. “Show you what?”

You reach between Sy’s legs, palming him gently until you find him. You cage his cock with your fingers and press against his semi-rigid length with the heel of your hand.

“Show me how you blow off steam, Sy.”

“You fucking with me?” he asks, cocking his head.

You shake your head. “Not one bit.”

“You wanna watch me jerk off?”

“Uh huh. You’ve made me curious.” You press your hand against him again and you grin when you feel how much quickly he’s thickening in his pants. “Seems you like that idea too.”

He groans and leans into you, rubbing himself against your hand. Then your eyes widen as he reaches between your legs. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush as his palm presses directly over your clit.

“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of us blowin’ off steam together,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, your noses touching, your lips a hair's breadth away from his.

“We can,” you say softly, your lips so close to his that your lower brushes the whiskers on his chin, “I’ll let you watch me, if I can watch you.”

Sy’s chest works hard as he thinks it over. He takes half a step back and runs his eyes over you, then closes the distance again.

“Okay,” he says, “but I want to see everythin’, no clothes on, no hiding.”

You slip out from between Sy and the wall. He says nothing, but he follows you as you back away until your legs hit the edge of his bed. Although your heart is working overtime and you can feel its pulse everywhere, its strongest between your legs. You want this, want to see the man in front of you on equal footing with you for once. No more of this power play between you, he’d be as vulnerable as you are.

Without overthinking it, you lift your shirt over your head and stare at Sy as you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra.

Sy curses and starts to toe off his boots while pulling his shirt off. It was a race to the finish, and it wasn’t long until you’re both standing naked in front of each other. Sy’s eyes are wild as he takes you all in and his hands work into fists at his sides. You take the time to look at him too from the vast expanse of his chest and the thickness of his shoulders and arm to the way his body tapers to his waist. Your cheeks burn as your gaze drop lower and see his cock, thick, smooth and so fucking hard.

Sy moves, taking your jaw in his hand he kisses you, his lips hard against yours. His arm works its way around your back, drawing your body close to his while his hand grabs a handful of your ass. 

You turn, repositioning the both of you until Sy is back up to the edge of the bed and you keep leaning into him until he takes the hint and sits, pulling you down with him until you’re sitting astride one of his thighs. He takes you with him as he climbs onto the bed. Your tight and pebbled nipples graze his chest and your pussy drags over his thigh as he gets comfortable and rests his back against the wall. The feel of his hard muscle and sparsely haired skin against the hot and wet skin between your legs makes you moan.

His mouth is on yours again. His lips work against yours, nipping, licking and sucking, while his hand works its way down your neck to your breasts. He groans and digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his palm rubbing and massaging.

You push against his shoulder that is all bulky muscle, and pull away from his kiss. His eyes are wild and hungry as he moves to follow your lips.

“No,” you say, lifting your head away from his advances. 

He growls and the arm around your waist tightens, his fingers are bruisingly deep into your hip. 

“Show me,” you whisper.

Taking his hand off your chest, you place it around his cock. Then you lean back, resting your weight on outstretched arms behind you. You rock your hips slowly, dragging your throbbing and wet pussy over his thigh, grinding your clit against him..

“Oh Jesus,” he groans, “fuck that’s… Oh fuck.”

His eyes are feral as he looks over your stretched body like he can’t decide where to look. His hand starts to move while he rakes you, his fist stroking up and down the length of his cock. Part of you longed to touch it, to feel the skin that looked so soft while it slides over the hard, thick core beneath. 

But watching him touch himself is enthralling. He is brutal with himself, his fist slapping hard against his body on the downstroke and his hand chokingly tight on the upstroke. His voice rumbles in his throat, sounding almost like a constant purr.

His free hand is on your ass again, helping you along as you rub yourself against his thigh. You’re so wet, your arousal glistens on his leg and you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as you slide over him. Your thighs tighten around him as they start to shake, you’re not going to last much longer, the feel and sight of him is just too good after all this time.

“Come ‘ere,” he says hoarsely, wrapping an arm around you until your body is flush with his. 

Your knee brushes against his sack and he lets go of his cock a moment to clasp your thigh drawing you close until your thigh is almost crushing him. His hand reaches for your nape and pulls your panting mouth down to his, and taking advantage of your parted lips he slips his tongue between them to stroke, massage and explore.

His thigh falls away and you whimper at the loss until you feel his palm cupping you. The roughened texture of his hand feels even better and your arms encircle his neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue over his.

“Oh fuck,” you cry as one of his thick fingers slips inside you and immediately curls. 

The pressure feels so good that you cover his hand with yours and push another of his fingers inside you before you tighten your legs until you trap his hand and roll your hips over it.

“That’s it, baby,” Sy encourages, “Use me. Make that tight li’l pussy come all over my hand.”

You shake, your whole body trembles and tightens as you breathe hard into Sy’s mouth. His pupils are so big, his eyes look as dark as the ocean at night as he stares up at you. His free hand moves to your chest, seeking out your nipple and rolls it between his fingers. You shiver at the feeling and your nerves are on fire as it moves through your body and slams into your clit.

“Harder,” you gasp.

Sy takes your tight little bud and pinches, before giving it a jerking twist. You bite down on his lip as your body shudders and your pussy starts to throbs sending pulses of heat ripping through your body.

“Fuck yeah,” Sy growls as he watches you cum, hardly feeling your teeth in his flesh. 

He waits for your body to go lax before he moves and lays you on your back. He grabs his cock again and resumes his brutal beating as he holds himself over you, watching you bathe in the afterglow.

“Where do ya want it?” he asks in a voice that’s thick and guttural.

You shake your head. “Wherever you want,” you say, breathlessly. “My face. My tits. My cunt. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Sy lets out a string of curses, his hand moving so quickly it’s nothing but a blur. You lift your knee until it presses against his balls again. His eyes go wide and raising himself to his knees he frees his hand to hold you to him. 

“Fuck!” he bellows, his face going red as the first hot jet of his release splashes over your neck and chin.

He grins, and half chuckles as his body jerks with each stuttering release as he paints your body with white ribbons. He squeezes himself, forcing the last of his cum to leak out slowly over your pussy.

He stares at you, his face still split into such a wide smile, that it makes you giggle too. He chuckles freely as he reaches between your legs and using his thumb, spreads his cum over your pussy.

“Stop that,” you laugh as he brushes your still sensitive clit.

“Shit baby, look so fuckin’ pretty right now.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Uh huh. How about cleaning me up?”

He leans over and grabs a small hand towel from the footlocker of his bed and starting at your chin, he carefully wipes up.

When he’s done, he cups your cheek and kisses you. It’s nothing like the kisses he’d given you up until this point. It was soft, gentle, almost loving.

When he pulls away he looks at you expectantly, like you’re supposed to say something, but you’re at a loss as to what he wants. He doesn’t seem to mind though because he lowers his head and kisses you again.

You wait for him to break the kiss again and throw your legs over the edge of the bed.

“I should go,” you say.

Sy’s hand grips your shoulder and pulls you back down. “Stay. Sleep here.” 

You start to protest but Sy is suddenly on top of you, silencing your objections with a deep, hard kiss.

“Stay,” he says and you stiffen at the command in his voice.

He must have felt your reaction because his next word is softer and more of a plea.

“Please.”

[peyton-warren]

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut:

I'd love to know more about what Sy is thinking after reader practically ran away from him in 'Blinded by the Fog' chapter 5

Only took 4 months, hon. I just hope it was worth the wait. I decided to write a new chapter just from Sy's perpective of the time leading up to Chapter 5, and whats going on before he shows up for dinner at Cougar's mom's. And somehow that turned into over 5k words....

Thank you for hand holding while i worked through my writer's block.

Without further ado here it is.

Blinded by the Fog Behind the Scenes I

Characters: Captain Syverson and Reader. Mention of Jake Jensen and Cougar Pairings: Jake Jensen x Reader, Syverson x reader

Word count: 5012 Type: angst and fluff Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. Loss of spouse and found family. drinking, swearing. Grief. Therpy/ emotional baggage type language. Vague mention of shitty childhood for reader.

Summary: An in depth look at what is going on in Sy's head in Blinded by The Fog Chapters 4, 5 and 6.

Author's Note: Thank you to @adulting-sucks for her continued support, especially when I want to chuck this whole thing in the trash and never look at it again. Sy's Running Play list: Here

Ask Box: Open

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Sy couldn't believe his heart was almost pounding as you walked into his living room dressed in his clothes.  He had it bad he realized, not for the first time in even the last 10 minutes.  He took you in from head to toe, you were effortlessly sexy in his clothes, and God how much he wanted to grab you and make you his own, crushing you under his weight, pinning you to this couch, carrying you off to his bedroom, making you forget your heartache, your sorrows, your troubles.  Instead he held out an open beer as you settled on the opposite end of the couch, curling your legs under you.  

“Feel better?” he asked even though that was a loaded question.  He knew it was tempting fate that you might fall back down into the spiral of mourning, but he honestly wanted to know if you felt more comfortable than you had, if he, his favorite comfortable clothes and his home made you feel better. It was selfish of him, he knew that, but right now he couldn’t help it.  He wanted nothing in this world more than to make you feel something more than just the sadness that seemed to consume you these past few months.  

“A little bit,” you had admitted to him as you put the bottle to your lips.  “So what are we watching?” He had to pull his eyes away from yours, forcing himself to grab the remote from the coffee table and gesturing at the TV.  “Figured I’d go with a classic.  Big Trouble in Little China.”

The light that sprung up in your face, in your eyes, was addicting, he realized.  “I haven’t seen that in ages,” you had told him, as you sat up, reaching over him for a slice of pizza.  Sy inhaled your soft smell.  He didn’t do it with any intention, it was instinctual when he caught a small whiff of you so close he couldn't stop himself from drawing a deeper breath.  Embarrassed by his own action, he pressed play, dropping the remote, and hoped you did not notice.  

You didn’t seem to as you settled back into the arm of the sofa, your eyes trained on the screen as you munched on your pizza, beer tucked between your thighs as you stretched out your legs, napkin on your thigh.  He really shouldn’t be noting that you seemed to relax more as you ate another slice, and finished off your beer.  He shouldn't have been pleased by your small smile when he first quoted Burton.  And he definitely should not be happy by your adorable little snort as he quoted Burton the second time.  “The check is in the mail.”

After you had your fill of the pizza and the movie progressed, Sy watched as you tucked your feet under your thighs, your hands wrapping around your toes.  “Cold?” he asked, his hand hovering over yours.  When you nodded cautiously, he gently pushed your hands aside and wrapped his fingers around the arch of your foot, pulling it from under you.  “Been told I’m like a furnace,” he admitted, tucking your toes under his thigh, encouraging you to wiggle both feet under his leg.  Grabbing the throw off the back of the sofa, he laid it over your legs, basically tucking them in as you hummed happily. “Thank you,” you whispered softly, giving him that smile he longed to see.  “That is much better.”

Sy simply slipped his hand under the blanket and wrapped his fingers around your ankles, squeezing gently, trying to look as casual as possible, forcing his eyes to watch the screen instead of you scooting down further into the couch, under his favorite blanket, looking like you belonged there.  It really wasn't long after that you fought your eyes from closing, and you finally lost that battle, falling quickly into sleep's embrace.  Soft snores came from the other end of the couch, and Sy couldn't stop from staring at you, watching you snooze like a complete creeper.  With every twitch, he scolded himself he should watch the movie, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from your sleeping form, happy you were comfortable enough, safe enough here with him to sleep. He expected you didn’t sleep well on your own based on the constant tired eyes you sported in the few months he had known you.  

He realized as Jack Burton praddled on in the basement of the warehouse in San Francisco’s Chinatown, that he felt like he had known you his whole life, that the connection the two of you had forged felt like one that would last the rest of his days on this earth.  And that scared him, scared him so much.  

Gently squeezing your ankles again, he forced himself to watch the movie, emptying his beer, leaving the bottle resting against his other leg. As much as he’d like another, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to wake you, didn't want to take that chance.  Instead he settled for running his thumb over your ankle bone, as he watched the rest of the movie.

After it ended, Sy sat there for a bit longer in the silence of his home. Enjoying it.  He didn’t realize how much he missed having someone else in his space until you appeared. Yes he missed Aika and was counting down until she was released from quarantine since their last deployment.  But it had been even longer since he had another human, a woman, in his space.  Having someone who understood his work, at least at the surface level.  Though after Jake and the Losers’ demise would you be willing to get involved with another military man?   

Sy rubbed his free hand over his face and beard.  Fuck.  He knew he was jumping the gun more than a hair.  You were still fresh in your grief over your husband and friends' deaths.  Why would he be thinking about making this anything more than ‘just friends’ at this point?  That wasn’t fair to you.  You were so vulnerable and trying hard to be the strong woman you expected yourself to be.  He couldn’t hope for anything from you more than just friendship.  And he was happy with that.  He really was.  He’d take you in his life anyway you were willing to give. 

With a deep sigh, he rose from the couch, watching as your legs stretched out, your feet rubbing together and settling in the warm spot he left behind as you continued to slumber.   As cozy as you looked, he couldn’t leave you here.  The bed in the guest room had become a makeshift laundry sorting and pile spot, despite how clean he kept the rest of the house.  That left his bed as the only other option.   He’d deposit you there and then come back and sleep on the couch himself. He’d napped on it plenty over the years. He’d manage just fine for a full night.  Hell, he’d slept in way worst places thanks to the US Army.  

Pulling the throw his great aunt made for him before he left for the military off of you, Sy carefully picked you up, pulling you close, cradling you in his arms.  Instinctually, you curled into him, seeking his warmth, pressing your face to his chest.  Smiling, he headed down the hall, gently kicking the door open.  He felt your fingers tangle in his shirt as he shifted you, your fingers catching a hair or two off of his belly in the t-shirt he was wearing.  As he walked to the side of the bed, you seemed to burrow further into his arms, as if you sensed he was trying to separate the two of you, and you didn’t want that to happen.  Aaran didn’t want that to happen.  He wanted to crawl into this bed with you, his bed, but that wasn’t fair to you, nor to him.  Especially when you muttered a soft “I love you” to your deceased husband.

Instead he laid you on the bed, and pulled your hand from his shirt by distracting you with soft kisses across your forehead. Laying the blanket around you and standing to leave.  From the doorway, he looked back, watching you seem to effortlessly settle into his bed, and into his heart.

“Ni-night, baby.”

Sy woke the next morning on the couch, curled on his side, his head resting on the throw pillow, a blanket pulled over him.  His arms were crossed tight across his chest, the couch giving him so little space for his appendages.  But as he sat up with a crick in his neck, he remembered why he had slept out here as he pulled the blanket into his lap, your soft smell filling his nose.  A small smile crossed his face as he folded the soft fleece and laid it across the back of the sofa.  

Glancing at his watch, he recognized the super early hour and figured as tired as you had been lately he could get a decent run in before you were up this morning.  Stretching his back, he headed towards the laundry room, knowing he had just washed some shorts and old t-shirts yesterday, certain he could use them for his morning exercise without needing to bug you.  

It was after he donned the soft well loved clothes that he realized he had cast his running shoes into a corner of his bathroom the other day when he was too lazy to take them off by the door, in too much of a hurry to get to the shower. 

“Fuck.”  Quietly he opened the door to the bedroom, praying the usually squeaky hinges were quiet,  his sight immediately falling on you, looking for any sign that he had woken you.  Finding none, he quickly shuffled to the bathroom, snagging the pair of shoes off the floor, before turning to escape.  Before he could, you moved, your legs shuffled under the blanket maybe, or you drew a deeper breath, or maybe your pinky flexed, and it drew his attention to the bed.  He forbade himself from moving any closer to you than where he was.  He also forbade himself from thinking how right you looked curled up in the bed, his bed.  He felt his body react at the thought of forgetting all about his morning run for a different form of exercise he possibly could get in if he slipped into the bed with you.  Instead he reminded himself again that you were newly widowed, and the last thing you needed right now was someone fucking with you, literally.  He had no right to try to act on the feelings that were growing with each passing day, passing hour, passing second.  

With a rueful sigh, he let himself out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.  After slipping his shoes on, he set up the ancient coffee maker to begin brewing, knowing at the very least he would appreciate the warm beverage when he returned.  By the look of the sky outside, Sy would be lucky if he came home dry let alone warm.  

GrabbIng an empty envelope from a pile of mail on his counter, he quickly wrote you a note to inform you of his intent to return shortly which he propped up on a clean mug.  Grabbing his ear buds off the counter, he headed out, hoping a hard run would chase the impure thoughts about you out of his head. 

Instead his iPod had other plans.  Sy hit skip as soon as A.D.I.D.A.S appeared on the screen as he hit play, swearing for not the first time that he needed to take that song off of his iPod all together.  A couple blocks away he realized just how inappropriate the lyrics to Black Dog actually were.  He skipped through almost half of his playlist, realizing how dirty many of the lyrics were, even songs he thought were harmless like Brown Sugar. Even that one Katy Perry guilty pleasure song made a maddening appearance in his ears. 

He was glad it started to rain as he hit the halfway point of his long run, realizing the run itself was doing little to kill his inappropriate thoughts about you.  When his shuffled playlist threw back to back songs Pearl Necklace and Relax by Frankie goes to Hollywood in his brain, Sy yanked the earbuds out and stuffed them in his pocket.  He picked up the pace to make it home before he was soaked to the bone, though the thought of taking a shower was glorious at this point, and even that brought thoughts of you to his brain.  He couldn’t win, he decided, and slowed his pace, letting the cold of the rain soak into his skin.  

His blood ran cold to match the weather as he saw you sitting curled up on his porch, still dressed in his shirt and sweats, but now they were wet.  Why were you outside? Why weren’t you inside?  What had happened?  His feet splashed through the puddles in his yard as he raced to you.  You didn’t even flinch as he jogged up the steps, the dread in his chest sinking into his gut.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling in front of you, a hand on your knee.  With a violent swipe, you pushed his hand away, revealing your face to him, both causing his heart to fracture.  “What happened, baby?” he tried again, settling his own knees beside you.  

“Don’t call me that,” you growled, using the sleeve of his shirt you had slept in to wipe at the snot and tears that accumulated on your face. 

Sitting back, Sy looked at you, trying to assess what had happened, but his brain didn’t come up with much outside of his ogling of you earlier, did you catch him?  Did he do something else that you deemed inappropriate? What the hell happened in the hour or so since he had left for his run?  With a deep breath to center himself, he focused on what he could do for you now.  “Let’s get you inside,” he said, grabbing for your arm which you ripped from his grip.  

“Lemme go.”

Putting his hands up in surrender, he got your message you didn't want to be touched, and he stood and reached for the door, finding it locked.  Silently, he slipped from the porch back out into the rain to go grab the spare key he kept hidden in the shed.  He returned to find you curled back in on yourself.  He opened the door, turning to tell you, but found you getting to your feet.  He quickly stepped back as you pushed through the door, ripping your bag and clothes from the hook as your wet bare feet slapped against the wood floors.  How you did not slip he didn’t have any clue, which only made you more impressive than you already were in his opinion.  

“I need you to take me to my car,” you said, your voice rough and haggard, snapping him out of his thoughts as you retreated to the bathroom, the door slamming making him wince.  

“Well fuck me,” he muttered, suddenly catching up that he had no idea what had happened to make  you go from the sweet girl cuddled into his couch last night to this thunder cloud and it didn’t seem like you were willing to tell him what had happened .  Pulling the wet shirt from his frame, he grabbed a hoodie from a hook, switching their places as he reached for his truck keys and headed out the door.  His running shorts weren’t as soaked as the shirt and he figured he didn’t have time to change them anyway.  Instead he turned the truck on, cranking the heat, hoping it was a hair warmer than the damp air outside by the time you two climbed in.  

He stepped back into his foyer as you reemerged from the guest bathroom, your bag slung over your shoulder.  “Let’s go,” you snapped, grabbing your work shoes as you headed out the door.  

“Alright.”  He followed you out, half noticing you pause on the porch as he locked the door behind you.  He didn’t think too much of it as you stalked towards the truck, not even trying to get in front of you to grab the door, uncharacteristically letting you climb in for yourself.  

Putting the truck into drive after you had snapped your seat belt on, Sy noted you checking your phone that had been sitting on the seat when you climbed in.  Suddenly things started to make a little more sense; you had lost your phone, you were worried about Jolene because you were certain you were going to let the other woman down.  You were always too fucking hard on yourself, and he wished he could make you stop.  You needed to stop.  You were doing all you could for Jolene, and Madre, and he imagined Aubrey too though he hadn’t seen the girl since the accident. He made a mental note to check in on her soon.  But not now.  “Fuck,” you softly swore, as you cradled your head, your voice suddenly so tired and worn. 

“Gonna tell me what's got you so wound up?” Sy tried again,  

“Nope,” you replied, letting the P pop loudly in the cab.  “Just need to go home.”

He may be a man, but he knew when to take a hint.  He wasn’t going to get anywhere with you right now by pushing.  He let it go. For now.  “A’ight.”

He noticed you gathering your things tighter in your fists as you neared the parking lot, and your car.  He would have snorted that you looked like one of his seasoned men about to tuck and roll out of a military vehicle if he wasn't so pissed off and confused at the moment.  He couldn't believe his ears when he heard the door open before he even came to a complete stop.  You were gonna hurt yourself.   

“Sugar, wait-” He threw the truck into park and grabbed for your elbow, trying to slow you down but you were gone before he could get a solid hold on you.  He silently cursed himself for having parked with your car next to your door, he should have thought that one through a little more as he dropped to the ground and rounded the front of the truck to see you peel out of the lot without a glance at him.  

“Goddamnit.”

He sucked in a deep breath before dropping his hands from his hips, and climbed back into the truck.  He stared at the entrance that you had just left from, pondering for a moment if he should follow you and try to make you talk to him or if he should just let you go.  You did seem to deflate some after you checked your phone.  Maybe it was just that you had been worried about Jolene, and nothing more.  

Dropping the truck into drive, he headed for home, giving you space you clearly wanted right now.  There was nothing he could do for you if you didn’t let him in.  As soon as he got there, he grabbed his phone from where he left it during his run, on the charger in the kitchen, and sent you a text asking if you got home ok.  With no more than that, he tossed it aside and strode to his bathroom, making himself to ignore where you had slept last night.  He was going to take this forced separation from you to get his head back on straight, taking the time to remind himself the only reason he had even met you was because of your husband’s recent accident.  So very recent, way too recent for him to be thinking you would want anything with anyone else.  

Angrily he stripped off his hoodie, tossing it and his shorts in the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. Turning the water on to warm up, he stripped the rest of his clothes before stepping under the spray trying to wipe you from his brain as he felt his body stir at that barest of thought of you.  Using all countless tactics he had used while sharing space with other men in the barracks earlier in his career, Sy willed himself to calm down, his hardon subsiding for the time being.  Touching himself at the thought of you was not going to solve anything.  If nothing else, it would make things worse for him, of that he was certain. Flipping the hot off completely at the end of the shower, he stood under the cold spray to the count of 60.  

With a shiver he cut the water and grabbed for his towel, searching his brain for what he was going to do with his Saturday.  He had spent the past few with you, and he was certain he had left things unattended to, though he currently couldn't think of anything outside of checking on you.  Wrapping the towel around his waist, he headed to the kitchen, grabbing the phone to find the super unpersonal thumbs up from you.  “Fuck you too,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the phone aside again.  He swept your coffee cup off the table, emptying it and the coffee pot in the sink.

Monday morning came with little fanfare for Aaran Syverson.  He had spent the weekend finding all manner of things to wipe you off of his brain, knowing he couldn’t do anything about you or this growing feeling until you worked out whatever happened on Saturday morning.  He hit the gym on base, pressing himself to his limits, driving the unwelcome thoughts of what you were going through without him from his brain.  Sunday he was paying for it, though he would never admit it to anyone else, his joints aching, his muscles just this side of painful.  What he also wouldn't admit to anyone else was that his phone was always just an arms reach away, all day Sunday as he mowed his meticulously already mowed lawn on Thursday evening.  Once that was done, he tried to banish you by binging on some tv show a station was playing back to back to back.  But all he accomplished there was demolishing a six pack.  

Checking his phone when he woke on the couch Monday, he let out a pained exhale and bit the bullet, sending a text asking if you were ok and if he could come over after work so you two could talk.  “Whatever this is isn't good for either of us any more,” he reasoned out loud to himself.   

He arrived early that morning to work, beating everyone else by almost 45 minutes.  He spent the time going through the mound of paperwork in his inbox, administrative stuff he hated about being the leader of a team and had pushed aside to deal with another day.  The fact that “another day” arrived should have told anyone around him something was wrong, but his team didn’t seem to notice.  Or did notice and chose not to say anything.   

Ten minutes before it was time to meet his men to start their day, his superior officer walked into his office, informing Sy that he and his team were to be in the debrief room at quarter after the hour, giving him little else to go on.  And maybe that’s why his men didn’t notice anything was going on with him, they too didn’t expect a mission briefing first thing on Monday morning. The rest of the day was spent prepping equipment and themselves to go out first thing Tuesday morning.

Syverson spent Monday night laying on the couch staring at the darkened living room ceiling.  He didn’t allow himself to even think about the reasoning why he hadn’t slept in his own bed the past 3 nights.  His only hope -that clearly had absolutely no bearing on why he was on the couch again- was that your scent will have completely disappeared from his bed linens by the time he returned, whenever that was.  

As soon as he got to base the next morning, he sent you a text informing you of his departure.  “I got your message that you don’t want to talk to me loud and clear.  I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out on a mission, and I do not know how long I’ll be gone.  If when I return I have not heard from you, I promise I will respect your wishes and refrain from contacting you again.”

With one last disappointing look at his messages, he shut down his phone, throwing it into the glove box of his truck.  Biting the inside of his cheek, he opened the door and dropped his booted feet to the ground, grabbing his go bag out of the back seat before slamming the door.  With a deep grounding breath, and another one following it, Sy tried to shift his focus from you to the mission.  He had to or he would compromise the lives of his men.  The intel they had on this was limited, and if he didn’t get his brain in line, someone was going to get hurt or worse.  The teams, all of them really,  were already reeling from Clay and the others’ accident and even though the US Army denied any involvement of their actions, that was to be expected in the world of the Special Forces.  Though they were all elte trained,  they all knew they could wing up just escape goats for the US government if it was needed. Sy and other officers who had been close to any of the members in Clay’s team knew in their heart of hearts that’s what had happened, that The Losers did nothing wrong.  They had seen other teams take the fall for US military failures.  

If Sy wanted to keep his own men safe and from seeing the others too soon, he needed to drop you from his mind and focus on the task at hand.  

Roughly four days later, though Sy wasn’t even sure how many days they truly were gone with the time zone changes and copious amount of flight time, he was back on the ground in North Carolina.  After the team was debriefed and released, Sy and a couple of the guys were walking to their vehicles, packs slung over their shoulders, chatting about their plans for the weekend.

“Hey Captain,” Anthony called as Sy unlocked his truck, his fingers itching to grab his phone and see if he’s heard anything from you.   

With an unsteady exhale, Sy turns his head to his second.  “Yeah?”   

Anthony stopped at the front fender of the truck, glancing to see if the other men were out of ear shot before he continued.  “Do me a favor, man?” the slighter man asked.  

“What’s that?” Sy questioned, truly unaware of what was about to be asked of him.  

“Can you figure out your pussy problem this weekend?” 

Sy’s eyes narrowed and he saw red, his fist curling around the door frame.  That was the last thing he expected from Anthony.  Yeah, you were never very far from the forefront of Sy’s brain the last few days but outside of one slip up that got no one even hurt let alone killed, Sy thought he had it under wraps.  

“Next time we get called, it may not be a drill, it may wind up being the real deal, ya know?” the younger man said.  “Whoever this new chick is, she’s got your brain messed up, man.  Others may not see it, or may be too scared of you to say shit, but I see you are not firing on all cylinders.  Gotta be cuz of a woman. You don’t get like this often.  Last time was what’s her face, Sh-“

“I don’t need to be reminded of her name, Lieutenant,” Sy snapped.  He remembered the last woman that had his brain in a twist.  The one he was sweet on before they deployed to Baqubah, the one who promised to wait for him.  The one who waited all of 2 weeks before sending the Dear John letter. Shit the way the mail system worked when they were deployed, it was likely she dropped it in the mail box on her way home from saying goodbye to him before his flight.

You were nothing like her.  You were leagues beyond her, better than her.   You had more heart in your little finger than Sy’s ex had in her uncaring whole body.  

The other officer stood staring at Sy, waiting for an answer.   He hated that Anthony knew him so well as to know when his brain was elsewhere. He guessed that’s why they worked so well together.  Also explained why Anthony picked up some slack on the training op.  

“I’ll get it together,” Sy promised, if for no other reason then to make the man back the fuck off and go home.  “I’ll see you on Monday.”  Sy slammed the truck door after tossing his pack into the back seat.  Cranking the key in the ignition, Sy dropped his truck into reverse, throwing his wrap-around sunglasses on his face as he sped off towards home, needing a shower and to check his phone.   

Before he even got out of the truck in his driveway, he booted up his phone.  His heart pounded as he saw a notification of a voice mail message.  Clicking play, Sy was as damn near to tears as he had been in a long time.  It was Cougar’s mom inviting him for dinner tonight.  It wasn’t you offering a single hint of what was going on in your head. 

Sy vowed then and there to let you go. He was far too wrapped up in you and your heartache to be healthy for himself.  He needed to think about himself for once. Your silence told him to back off, and he had no choice to do it, for both of you. 

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[doll-r-t]

Butterflies in your stomach

Syverson x autistic!reader

Just a small thing I thought about.

TW: fluff

Masterlist pinned on my blog

gif by demicampirew

You had met Syverson when he moved in with Jay, his best friend, after he was done with the military. Jay brought him to the bar, your friends and you would usually hang out. He was so handsome and immediately you had a crush on him. He was very much your type. Broad, muscular but with a layer of fat, not clearly defined muscles but clearly strong. They were functional muscles and you could only imagine how he could lift you up, carry you in his arms. Or easily lift the heavy things you had problems with. You dreamed about him coming up behind you taking the heavy things from you and easily carrying them to wherever you needed. And as a cherry on top he had a beard, giving him a rough, rugged look that made your heart flutter. Yet, what truly enticed you was how kind and caring he was, joking around even if it was on his own expense. He was cocky but not arrogant. 

Yet, you had no idea how to go about your crush, no idea what kind of woman he would be interested in and if you fell into that category. You spent countless nights wondering, thinking about him. Your heart would beat faster and faster when you knew you would see him whenever your friends would go out in the evening. You were not in the habit to regularly go out but the fluttering in your stomach gave you enough energy not to miss one outing and the chance to see him.

Your best friend found this quite odd that you would willingly go to every gathering. And finally only a week after you had realized you like Syverson you told your best friend. You were never a person who was ashamed of your feelings. Not understanding the secrecy around having a crush. 

Even though it would make you sad, very much so if he did not like you, you would be okay. At least you would know and could try and move on. 

However, as much as you tried you struggled with making conversation with him. It was always difficult for you. You either talked too little or too much. You did not know what to say, when and how to say something and eventually the conversations would die down and you were just not interesting enough for people to stick around. This got even worse when you liked someone. Trying to think clearly ignoring how hard your heart was beating and often your sentences were disjointed. While at times when a topic would arise you had previously been fixated on or were currently interested in. You would info dump and even sometimes correct people when they said something not entirely true. This was the biggest reason you struggled with finding a partner. You were just out of your depth with social interactions. And no one had ever caught your attention as much as Syverson. All you wanted was to be wrapped up into his arms and make him laugh, enjoy the rumble in his chest and the amazing feeling it gave you when you would make someone laugh. Especially laughter of happiness, this was the greatest joy for you. 

You would always smile at him. When you first saw him you could not help but let the biggest broadest smile take over your face. Squishing up your cheeks until it would look like your eyes were closed. Yet, during the time you would spend with your friends at a bar or at someone's house having a BBQ you would shyly smile at him whenever your eyes met. No idea how to strike up a conversation. You could hardly look him in the eyes. Whenever you have intense emotion it is hard for you to look people in the eyes. No matter bad or good emotions. Your heart would race so hard that it would hurt if you also had to look directly at the person's eyes. Which was a shame as Sy had such beautiful eyes. You tried making conversation with him. You voice soft and tentative trying to curb the anxiety you felt talking to him, hoping he liked you. 

You could not see how soft his eyes were when he looked at you. The encouraging smile when he saw the nervousness whenever he talked to you. At first he thought you might be a bit scared of him but soon he realized that you had taken a liking to him. He had talked to his best friend, asking if he knew something you were interested in. So he could coax you out of your shell. It was a bit hard to hold up the conversations at times but he did not mind leading the way throughout the chats you two had. It was superficial at first and he caught on quickly that you struggled a little with social interaction. So when his best friend said he would ask his boyfriend, a guy from your friend group he saw you get along easily, Sy felt encouraged that next time you two saw each other he would have something to talk about with you. He wanted you to feel included in the group and now that Syverson was retired and was so kindly taken into the friend group he did everything to be a part of their little found family. 

When his best friend's boyfriend was over at their place he gave him some pointers not only on you but other people in the group. Yet Sy especially listened to what he said about you. You liked cartoon drawings, had a high level of education and loved learning new things. You tried to learn different languages, loved books and storytelling. You were closed off at first until you got a basic understanding of a person. But once someone would get through your shell you would open up. As Syverson understood from what the boyfriend said, you were honest, kind, gentle but stood up for what you believed, fighting for your loved ones. Syverson  thought long and hard about what the boyfriend had said about you. He remembered the way you made sure everyone was okay, that they had drinks and food. How you ran after your friend when she forgot her hat at the bar even though you would see each other tomorrow. Saying: "I did not want her to be cold or panic searching for her hat." It brought a smile to Syverson's face. The more he thought about you the more he wanted to get to know you. 

He slowly and so gently fell in love with you. When you two talked and he brought up a book he knew you liked, Syverson fell full force for you. The way your eyes lit up, how you stumbled over your word because you were speaking so fast, how you would gesture with your hands and smile up at him in excitement. 

However, you surprised him when your group of friends left the bar. You turned to him, a little nervous and asked him if he wanted to have coffee with you. "Just us two. I like you and would love to get to know you better. If that is okay with you." He had never been asked out, well so direct and honest. He liked that. You seemed so fearless while doing it. Letting him know what you want but making sure you would be okay if he refused. Normally Sy was the one asking out the woman and the caveman at him was annoyed you had beaten him to it. Yet the war tired man in him was relieved to have such directness. No dancing around, straight and simple. 

Finally he smiled at you, "'course darlin'. Would love that." He pulled out his phone to give you his number. Although you two were in a group chat with all your friends he wanted the experience of giving you his number, making it feel more like a romantic start. You beamed up at him pulling out a piece of paper. His lips quirked at this. He knew you had your phone on you. But you looked so cute, with the piece of paper in your hands holding it out excitedly to him. 

Giving him the piece of paper he saw you had written your phone number on it and your name. He took it happily. "Let me know when you wanna grab that coffee. I am free most of the time." You went on, still smiling up at him. "You got it sweetheart." He hesitated a bit. He thought of your honesty so he gave himself a push. Screw seeming too eager! Who cares anyway? 

“How about tomorrow at 3pm.” He smiled down at you. 

Your friends had walked a bit further away giving you two some space but couldn’t help but look at the two smiling at each other. You two are so cute, your best friend thought. 

“We could go to the small cafe with the vintage furniture, the one couple streets down the road.” He pointed his thumb behind him. You nodded eagerly. He knew you loved that cafe. 

“Of course, I love that cafe. They have the option to put vanilla sugar into the coffee!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Well then it’s decided. I can pick you up and we can park by O'malley's pub then walk downtown.” You nodded once more. “See you then.” You hugged him. Burying your face in his chest, he enclosed you in his arms, almost swallowing you whole. He could get used to this. You lifted your head looking up at him, with sparkling eyes. Taking your face in his hands he kissed your forehead. “See you then.” He whispered. Watching as you and your best friend walked down the road to your car. 

Both of you went home that night with butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face.

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