#Captain Syverson x Reader

[loganbcrnes]

this is definitely how Captain Syverson is built in my mind.

gif: @asgardswinter

18+, fem!reader under the cut

thinking about Alpha!Sy post retirement, so hes gained a little more weight. he still has a load of muscle and he does work out still. But instead of constantly eating MRE's when he is deployed, he now eats your food. and your food is fuckin' delicious. Even if you are a bad cook, he'll gobble it down anyways and take seconds because he knows how much effort you put into cooking.

Ofc you dont cook all the time (unless u wanna be a housewife which is ok) he cooks with you as well. and living in the mountains where it is often cold, eating good warm food is commended.

Hes always wrapping his arms around you. whenever you're folding laundry, cooking food, showering. he has his hands on you at all times. the big gruff alpha is soooo clingy. and you absolutely love it. And he knows how much you love the size difference. He does too, and take every opportunity he can to take advantage of that.

You love how warm he is. The alpha is just a hot furnace. So whenever you are cold, he's always there to wrap around you keeping you warm. burying your face in his hairy soft chest.

Sometimes you like to run your hands down his chest, to feel the muscle clench under your cold hands. Trailing your fingers through his hairy pecs and down to his thick happy trail. And when i say this man is hairy...hes hairy.

to the spicy part...his body is so big, when hes fucking you from the back, he towers over you, on his elbows beside your face. The man fucks with his body, not just his cock. his thick cock thrusting in and out of your wet cunt, clenching around him. He groans into your ear. He drives you mad with his noises.

"thas' it, Darlin'. takin' my cock so well". I just imagine him saying in that sweet accent of his. GRRRR

Oh and when he fucks you missionary as well (his favourite position), he has your legs press against your chest, and over his shoulders. he's just fucking into you, his big heavy balls slapping against your cunt. His thick legs on display, the muscles bulging out as he keeps himself up.

His giant hands are just everywhere, keeping your legs up. Or his hand is pressed against your tummy to feel his cock inside, around your throat (not choking), in your hair if he is fucking from the behind. He cannot get enough of you. He often slows down to just pick up his speed again, making sure he gets his knot inside of you. filling you up to the brim with his cum.

His pubes grind against your clit, his massive thick body towering over you, making you feel small.

Feel free to follow my twitter acc if u want! aquasuperbat

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi Molly<3

How about captain Syverson and

“be still” - “i can’t” - “yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?”

morning cuddling with the love of your life

pairing: boyfriend!captain syverson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, morning sex, fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, pet names (bunny), morning cuddles, established relationship taken to the next couple levels 👀

word count: 1,800ish

a/n: ahhh thank you so much for sending in this prompt—and for requesting my second favorite captain!! this one is just pure smut with a very fluffy ending, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

The sunny spring morning began, as all your mornings had since you’d started dating Captain Syverson, with some sleepy cuddling. You’d only been dating a few months, and he hadn’t moved in yet, but Sy always seemed to end up in your bed—even the nights he worked late—and you enjoyed him being there. You loved falling asleep in his arms and waking up to his warm comfort too much to say anything about it.

That morning, the sun was shining through your bedroom windows and casting a yellow glow over everything. But it was chilly beyond your blankets, the spring day not having yet been warmed by the sun, and you were happy to stay in bed. You were still half-asleep when your fingers started searching for Sy’s broad, warm body, pulling yourself closer once you found him, humming happily when he wrapped his thick, beefy arms around you. 

You sighed contentedly with your face buried in his chest, your body settling into his comforting embrace as you breathed in the woodsy, familiar scent of his skin. The hair dusting across his burly chest tickled your cheeks pleasantly and you shifted closer, hitching your bare thigh over his hip. Because you wore only one of Sy’s t-shirts, your uncovered core pressed to the soft cotton of Sy’s boxers, and you felt his bulge twitch against your warmth.

A little shiver raced down your spine, but you were still too sleepy to do anything about the length hardening between your thighs. Besides, Sy didn’t seem inclined to take things further yet either, as he rumbled a deep snore.

The both of you dozed for a little while, until a deep, reverberating groan in Sy’s chest roused you again. It was only then that you discovered your hips were rocking gently against your boyfriend’s cock, stirring up a heat that crashed through your body as soon as you became aware. A soft gasp left your lips, and Sy groaned louder, knowing you were awake.

“Ya gotta stop, or ‘m not gonna be able to let ya sleep anymore, bunny,” Sy rumbled, his voice far too warm with sleepy pleasure to sound the least bit warning. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, and you smiled into his chest, enjoying the heat curling deliciously through your body.

Stretching up, you reached blindly for Sy’s mouth, your eyes still closed and, after some fumbling, managed to kiss your boyfriend good morning. His arms squeezed you tightly as you kissed lazily, knowing you had all the time in the world to spend the morning in bed together.

“Maybe I’m done sleeping, daddy,” you murmured against his mouth when you broke the kiss. You rolled your body more purposefully, grinding your naked pussy against the bulge in Sy’s boxers and delighted in his grunt of pleasure. “Maybe I wanna feel you stuff that big cock of yours deep in my needy pussy.” 

Sy rumbled a chastising sound. “Christ, the mouth ya got on ya, bunny,” he muttered. Still, he slid his big hand down between your bodies, cupping your pussy possessively and thrusting two fingers inside to test your readiness. You were wet and slick for him, and he dragged a moan from your lips while he fucked you. His tone managed some menace as he growled, “Maybe I should shove my cock into that filthy mouth of yours and show you what dirty girls get for rilin’ up their daddies.” 

“Nooo, please,” you begged, pouting up at him and fluttering your lashes in the way that had Sy’s cock twitching against your thigh, his precum leaking onto your soft skin. “I’m already so wet for you, daddy, would you really deny me when my tight little hole is dripping and begging for you?” 

With a tortured groan, Sy rolled you onto your back, his hips settling between your thighs and pushing you open wide with his broad body. Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he slipped them into your mouth, and you eagerly sucked your own arousal from his skin. 

“Good girl,” he rumbled, the hint of a smile curving his mouth. 

While you were busy cleaning his fingers, Sy shoved his boxers down and lined up his cock with your entrance. He smacked your messy folds with the heavy head of his cock, watching as your eyes went heavy lidded and you moaned around his fingers. He removed them from your mouth and grinned when you let out a desperate whine. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a gasp, writhing beneath your boyfriend’s broad form.

Thankfully, Sy wasn’t interested in any more teasing and he pushed into your needy, aching hole. Your back arched up off the bed and you let out a sharp cry, enjoying the feeling of his thick cock stretching out your tight cunt. No matter how many times he fucked you, it always felt like Sy was pressing the air from your lungs and rearranging your insides to make room to accomodate his fat cock.

“Feel so fucking good, bunny,” Sy groaned when he was buried inside you, his balls pressing against your ass. For a long moment, he stayed there, his eyes closing like he was savoring the tight warmth of your body. “Christ, I could live in your cunt—ya feel like you were made for me.”

He was so big and hard and hot inside you that you couldn’t stop yourself from squirming, your knees climbing his sides so he could push even deeper into your cunt. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you moaned loudly, your inner walls gripping his hard length like your body wanted to suck him even deeper. You were practically folded in half beneath the beefy body of your boyfriend, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him to move, to fuck you—to empty his balls into you and fill you up with his seed.

“Be still.” The words were little more than an unintelligible growl from your Sy’s mouth. 

You whimpered, your hips rocking up against him, fucking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. Even if you wanted to stop, you didn’t think it was possible—not when you needed him so badly. “I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, do you want to find out what will happen if you don’t?” Sy’s hand gripped your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “If you don’t stop, I’m not going to be able to hold back,” he warned, his face grim with barely leashed desire. “I’m gonna flood your unprotected pussy with my come and I’m gonna knock you up—is that what you want?”

Even if you’d wanted to lie and tell him it wasn’t at all what you wanted, your body answered Sy’s question for you, your cunt squeezing his cock even harder, like you were wordlessly begging him to put a baby in your belly. But you knew your boyfriend would never do anything if you didn’t say the words, so you forced your mind to focus through the pleasure and delirious need to get the words out. 

“I want it, daddy,” you admitted on a whimper, crying out when Sy pulled back, only to surge forward and make your whole body shake with the force of his thrust. With your confession out in the open between you, it seemed to loosen your tongue and a flood of words fell from your lips. “I want you to knock me up, I want you to put a baby in me—your baby, Sy—I want you to make me a mommy, please, daddy!” 

“Jesus christ, bunny,” Sy ground out as he pounded into you, his hips slapping against your thighs while he thrust deep into your cunt. “Ya want daddy to breed you—ya wanna be daddy’s good little breeding bunny, huh?” 

“Yes, yes yes,” you cried, gripping Sy’s broad shoulders, your cunt squeezing his cock. You were so close. “Breed me, daddy—Sy, please—please!” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pausing to reposition his hips. Then he was grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust into your cunt and it wasn’t long before you screamed your release. Your whole body clenched tight, making Sy groan like he was in pain as your pussy gripped his cock so hard, his release quickly followed yours. 

Sy captured your lips in a messy kiss, his beard burning your cheeks and chin as hips stilled. You felt his cock twitch deep in your fluttering cunt, and the rush of his come overflowing your pussy, dripping down your ass. You shivered and moaned into Sy’s mouth, your hands clinging to his shoulders and neck while your bodies came together in the most primal way possible.

When you were finally sated and the last of his come had been wrung from his cock, Sy rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. Your bodies were still connected, the evidence of your releases making a mess of the both of you. You sighed contentedly and snuggled into Sy’s chest, a happy smile on your face.

“I s’pose I should officially move in, huh?” Sy asked, a bit of playfulness seeping into his deep, satisfied drawl. 

“You better,” you muttered, putting a little poutiness into the words, which made Sy chuckle. Pushing yourself up, you gave Sy a kiss before pulling away and shooting him a stern look. “Then you might wanna start thinking about putting a ring on my finger,” you said pointedly, arching one of your brows.

Sy grinned so wide, it made his beard twitch. Without looking away from you, he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled something out. You didn’t see what it was until you felt him slip something onto your left ring finger. With a gasp, you finally looked away to see the pretty engagement ring he’d just put on you.

“Way ahead o’ ya, bunny,” he murmured, tipping your chin to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “Assuming it’s a yes, of course.”

You snorted. “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, a giggle of joy in your tone. Then you kissed him again—and again and again and again. 

Eventually, you settled back down on Sy’s chest, unable to keep your eyes off the ring, turning your hand this way and that so you could admire the way it sparkled so prettily in the bright morning sunshine. Already, you were picturing a spring wedding—Sy would look so handsome in a suit beneath an arch of spring flowers…

Your head spun a little with how much your life had changed on that spring morning, but you couldn’t be happier. You were going to become Mrs. Syverson and start a family with your captain—but the best part was that you’d get to start every morning cuddling with the love of your life. 

And you couldn’t wait.

[littlefreya]

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet. 

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god. 

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer. 

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read. 

The other - “something to make you think of me.”  

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin. 

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath. 

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?” 

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip. 

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games. 

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body. 

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand. 

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out. 

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside. 

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release. 

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to… 

It was his fantasy, after all. 

“FUCK!!!” 

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck. 

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo. 

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.  

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!” 

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded. 

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment. 

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.” 

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.” 

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking. 

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud. 

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

[gummydummy19]

The bear and his honey

Summary: How grumpy Sy won your heart and you won his :))

Content Warnings: Fluff, sunshine x grumpy trope, smut (oral, fingering, piv, creampie, pet names, praise, hint of a size kink)

A/N: Look at that! I wrote another Sy fic! @omgkatinka sent me this: After that fic today I kept thinking about first dates with Sy. And how either epic or awful it would be if your first date was getting stuff from ikea and assembling the stuff together. I feel like that would either forge an unbreakable alliance or doom the connecton right away. But I really like the idea. and I LOVED IT so I included that in here as well :)) It's not their first date but I hope you still like it <3

Word Count: 4k+ (holy shit)

Like a little girl seeing a big teddy bear at the fair, you were sold when you first met Sy. There was something immediately comforting about him. He was quiet and a little grumpy, but he always treated you with respect. A real Southern gentleman, as they say.

It took a long time before he asked you out. You kept running into him at get-togethers, always being drawn to him from the second you walked in.

In the beginning, you worried you were coming on too strong, always sticking to his side, asking him questions, flirting with him...

One night your entire friend group got together again for a cookout and drinks around the fire. Everyone was perfectly tipsy and content, and when the conversation started taking a more juvenile turn, you heard something that made your cheeks feel warm.

"Oh come on, everyone knows Sy's got it bad for you!", Cory boomed, swinging around his beer.

"Shut up, Cory", you hushed him, dismissing it quickly. You tried to ignore the way your stomach fluttered at the idea of Sy being into you, but when you saw him blushing, (yes, blushing) on the other side of the fire you felt your heart swell.

After that night, you started getting more confident. You loved teasing him, always poking the bear. You tried to get a rise out of him every chance you got, knowing he had a soft spot for you.

Admittedly, you were having a fun time pushing his buttons, but after almost two weeks of flirty comments and hanging under his arm whenever you could, he still hadn't asked you out.

So after another night of teasing, flirting, a couple of debatably too-strong martinis, and what Cory called "canoodling" you finally hit your breaking point.

"Are you planning on asking me out? Like ever?", you blurted out.

Okay, those martinis were definitely too strong.

"Ya want me to?"

Is he joking?

He chuckled and you realised you said that last bit out loud.

That Friday he showed up on your doorstep at exactly 6pm, on the dot, and handed you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You could tell he really made an effort. He was wearing a button-up shirt and what looked like a fresh, new pair of jeans.

"Oh Sy, these are beautiful!", you squealed, before pressing a chaste kiss to his fuzzy cheek, 'Let me go put them in water, and then we'll be on our way!'

He didn't say much, he just grumbled as you skipped about your apartment in your pretty little dress, like you didn't know exactly what you were doing to him.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in town, where he briefly told you about his job and his family before casually shifting the conversation back to you.

You let your foot wander up his leg while you innocently told him about yourself, loving the way he startled when the waiter showed up.

Afterward, he walked you home and gave you a kiss on your cheek, just as innocent as the one you had given him before. You were a little disappointed when he didn't come in, but you decided to deem his chivalry as charming.

A week and a half later, he took you to the drive-in for your second date. They showed some old James Bond movie, the perfect combination of action and steamy romance as you cuddled closer to him in his truck.

During a particularly spicy scene, you let your hand wander up his thigh, but before you got to his crotch, he stopped you.

You looked up at him with a frown, but to your surprise, his eyes were still glued to the screen.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, thinking maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he just wanted to be friends? Maybe that's why he didn't kiss you last time? Why he didn't wanna come upstairs with you...

The nasty thoughts kept pouring in and you felt yourself spiral down. You shuffled away from Sy's embrace, gently moving to sit as far away from him as possible, half debating just getting out of the car completely.

'What's wrong?' Sy asked as he looked at you, sitting against the door of his truck.

"If you don't want me you can just say that Sy," you said bitterly, staring out the window.

When you heard him chuckle, you angrily snapped your head back to see if you were actually hearing it correctly.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" you spat.

You tried to open the door. You wanted to leave. To get as far away from him as possible, but the door was locked, and before you could protest, he wrapped his big arm around your waist and swiftly pulled you back against him.

You had no time to wriggle yourself out of his grip, because he moved his bearded face down to your ear and whispered, "You can't always get what you want, sugar."

You didn't know what to say. His actions had already confused you and now his words confused you even more.

He grinned at your puzzled look, grabbing your chin in his large paw.

"What do you want?" he asked calmly, looking straight into your eyes.

"You."

"You have me," he stated, making butterflies erupt in your stomach

"Doesn't fucking feel like it." you dared, keeping your voice low and your eyes away from his.

"Bratty little thing, aint ya?," he grinned, secretly a little proud at your ballsiness, tho he'd never admit it.

His grasp on your jaw tightened, making your eyes snap back at his.

"If you want something, you gotta ask nicely, sugar." he drawled, leaning in a bit closer, "Now, what do you want from me."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your eyes darted from his gorgeous eyes down to his plush lips and back before you spoke, "A kiss, please."

A cheesy grin spread over his face and he loosened his grip on your jaw, moving his hand to cup the side of your face, gentle but firm.

He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke, "Such a polite girl," before finally attaching his lips to yours.

That night you realized Sy wasn't as soft as you thought he was, in fact, he had quite the mean streak...

Another week of sweet texts and teasing phone calls later, you knew you were in deep.

Your third date wasn't even supposed to be a date. He took you for a walk in the park. You started holding his hand about halfway through the walk, with little intention of ever letting go.

It was meant to be a short stroll, just to get some air, but soon the sun started setting and your stomach started rumbling.

'Ya hungry? I know a good place nearby', he stated, pulling you closer against his side.

'Sy...I'm really not dressed for anything fancy...', you replied, knowing Sy's definition of 'a good place' when it came to you.

'Don't you worry sugar, you're dressed just fine', he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

20 minutes later you were standing at a food truck, being introduced as 'his girl' to one of his old army buddies wearing a 'kiss the cook' apron.

While you munched on your greasy food, Sy told you the truck had been there since last summer, after their last tour. He was there every week.

It wasn't hard to notice the way Sy shifted when he talked about his work. You didn't push or pry, you just listened, letting your thumb trace over his hand as he opened up to you. Funny, how this thing with a man you had only kissed once already felt like the most intimate relationship you'd ever been involved in.

Two weeks after your first kiss, you got Sy to join you for a trip to Ikea. You needed a new bookshelf and your car was too small to fit it, so you convinced Sy to bring his truck. Getting to stroll around with him through the hallways with your hands linked was simply a bonus.

When you first walked in, you could tell Sy was a little uncomfortable. This wasn't exactly his area, fluffy rugs, decorative pillows,...he felt so out of place. But seeing you with a big smile on your face, dragging him around to show him which wineglasses you liked, made it worth it.

You made him feel at ease, but nervous at the same time. The whole thing felt so domestic, so innocent. So, why was the only thought on his mind pushing you onto one of those beds and fucking you six ways from Sunday?

Aside from that kiss in the car and a couple steamy messages, not much had happened between the two of you. It's not like you didn't want to, you just wanted to take it slow and Sy was trying to be a tease gentleman.

By the time you got to the storage place, he was a lot more relaxed. Maybe it was the fact that there were no more soft blankets or colorful couches. This part of the building was definitely more his vibe. Though, being able to show off his strength when it was time to carry the boxes may also have something to do with it...

You were almost at checkout, Sy was pushing the cart, half his view was blocked and he was trying not to crash into anything when he heard you squeal loudly.

"OH MY GOD!"

"What? What happened?" He peaked past the mountain of cardboard. He was worried something might have happened, but when he saw what you were holding, he grinned in confusion.

"He looks just like you!" you exclaimed happily, holding a big, stuffed bear with dark brown fur. "I'm taking him home with me."

Sy tried to keep a stern look but failed miserably, chuckling while he pulled you into him.

"What, am I not enough for you anymore? Should I be worried?", he joked.

"Don't you worry, baby. You will always be my big bear. The little one is just for when you're not around", you explained.

"Well if I'm your bear, you're my honey", he mumbled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. God, he always smelled so fucking good... "Oh! I can spray some of your cologne on him!"

You kept babbling happily as you dragged Sy to the checkout. He didn't even know how long he had been smiling, but somehow he just couldn't stop. Fuck, what are you doing to him?

45 minutes later it was your turn to try and suppress your laugh. You were sitting on your couch, sipping a glass of white wine, and watching your man try and prove just how manly he is.

"Sy, honey, I really think if you just looked at the instructions..."

"I don't need no damn instructions, it's a fucking bookshelf", he grumbled.

"Alright, suit yourself...", you sighed, turning the page of your magazine.

Barely a second later you got startled by a loud bang and a string of curses. You looked up to see the damage and were met with a fuming Sy clutching his thumb.

"Not a word", he said.

"M'not saying anything!", you chuckled.

Another ten minutes passed in silence, aside from the occasional grumble coming from the bulky man you were rapidly falling in love with.

You finally dropped down the magazine next to you and put down your wine.

"Would you just let me help?", you asked, standing in front of him.

"I don't need-"

"Yes, you fucking do! Stop being so damn stubborn, Sy! It's not a sin to look at the manual! It's what it's fucking there for!", you finally snapped.

Sy looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. He straightened himself, towering over you.

"You don't scare me, big guy", you dared, crossing your arms.

He raised his brow, tilting back his head a tiny bit as he peered down at you.

"Alright", his voice was calm and collected. A beat of silence passed and the tension could be cut with a knife.

You were starting to get a little confused, not entirely sure what the vibe was anymore but then, without an ounce of effort, Sy picked you up and swung you over his beefy shoulder.

"Sy! What the hell are you doing? Logan??"

A squeal left your throat when you were dropped down on your mattress. You barely had any time to process what was happening before Sy was on top of you, pinning your arms above your head as his body covered yours.

"You and that damn mouth of yours", he groaned, "always running ain't it? See what happens when you poke a bear?"

"He finally wants to taste his honey?" you spoke softly.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea", he said before he captured your lips with his.

You tried to wriggle your hands free to touch him, but he wouldn't budge, chuckling into your mouth as he felt you struggle.

"What have I told you about asking for what you want, hmm?"

"Sy, please...", you started begging.

'Please what? Use your words"

"C'mon....just lemme touch you, Sy, s'not funny anymore...", you whined, desperately trying to get closer to him, but you were no match for his strength.

Admittedly, feeling how much bigger and stronger than you he was made you drip right through your panties, but that didn't mean you weren't still desperate to get your hands on him.

Sy finally took pity on you and released your wrists. Your hands immediately clawed at his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer as you pulled him in for another breathtaking kiss. One of his big hands semi-gently held your cheek while the other pawed at your body, wherever he could.

It didn't take long before clothes went flying, both yours and his. The sound of his belt unbuckling ran in your ears as your blood pumped faster.

"Fuck, I want you so bad...", you mumbled under your breath, your eyes raking over his furry chest before landing on the tent in his boxers.

"I want you too, baby, so so bad". Blood rushed to your face at the realization that he had heard you. He still had a grin on his face, but this time it was different. Less mean, more dopey.

"Wanna taste you...", he mumbled as he pressed kisses between your breasts and down your stomach.

"Fuck, Sy..."

The first lick between your sticky folds already had him moaning into your pussy. "Sweetest honey I've ever fucking tasted...", he groaned before burying his face back in between your legs.

He ate you out with vigor, swiping his tongue around your clit just enough to drive you crazy before dipping it down to lick long stripes up and down your slit. With all the pent-up tension (and Sy's insane cunnilingus skills), it didn't take long at all before you felt that familiar heat pool down in your belly.

You arched your back off the bed, one hand digging into Sy's scalp as the other frantically grabbed at your pillow.

"Oh fuck, fuck...", you moaned as you felt yourself starting to creep closer to the edge. Sy focussed his full attention solely on your clit now, sucking and nibbling on it while he pressed two of his thick fingers inside you. He curled them up, finding your spot almost immediately and you screamed.

"AH shit! Please please please, don't stop...m'gonna cum!”, you babbled with an unsteady voice.

Usually you don't like to tell your partner when you're about to cum, because for some reason they always seemed to take that as a sign to start doing completely different shit, but you trusted Sy. He clearly knew what he was doing, and to your delight, he kept doing it exactly like that until your thighs were trembling on his shoulders.

You felt the waves of your orgasm roll through your body, your hips mimicking the movement as you bucked against his face. He didn't seem to mind one bit.

He kept his fingers inside you, perfectly stimulating the spongy spot they were nestled against while his lips nursed on your swollen clit, prolonging your orgasm.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire as you waited for Sy to stop, so you could finally breathe again. But to your surprise, the big beast between your legs didn't even show signs of slowing down.

"S-Sy...fuck fuck stop...stop stop stop...", you tried to squirm away from the sensitive feeling, but he kept you firmly in his grip.

"fuck..shit..sensitive...too sensitive..Sy, FUCK!" you moaned when the pain suddenly turned into overwhelming pleasure. The only thing you could do was scream for him. With every knock of his fingers against your spot you felt a pressure build, and when his strong arm pressed down harder on your belly, you swore your vision went white.

You wailed as you came again in a manner that could only be described as violent. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you felt yourself gush all over Sy's mouth and fingers. Your brain was too fuzzy to be embarrassed about it. He helped you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he finally let up.

"Fucking hell...", he spoke up first. Your eyes blinked open and you sat up a bit to look at him. You were still finding the right words, trying to piece your brain back together, and then you saw it. The drops in Sy's beard, the wet spot on the mattress...oh my god...no no no no no.

It was as if Sy could read your mind, either that or the horrified look on your face was more obvious than you thought it was.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life", he stated.

"Really?"

"Absolutely", he promised.

You looked at the twinkle in his eyes and you knew he wasn't lying. God damn, where has this man been all your life. Before you could stop yourself, you pulled him forward by the neck and smashed your lips against his, not caring one bit about the wetness of his beard.

He groaned when you pushed him back on the bed. "My turn", you grinned as you straddled him. You gave him one last peck before peppering kisses on his neck and across his chest.

"Fuck, honey...", he mumbled, gently moving your hair out of your face and keeping a gentle hold of it.

You finally shimmied down his boxers. His cock sprung free. Hard, throbbing, and all yours. You grabbed him by the base and pressed a few teasing kisses along the length of him before licking up a stripe and finally taking the head in your mouth.

A low rumble could be heard deep in his chest as you took him deeper, determined to fit him entirely. To your disappointment, you started gagging when he was barely halfway. You wanted to try again, but Sy gently tugged on your hair. "Not necessary, sweetheart"

"But I wanna make you feel good", you pouted.

"You are, feels so good princess, doesn't have to be all the way to feel good", he reassured you.

You took him in your mouth again and gently bobbed your head up and down, glancing up at him to see his eyes droop. You would have kept going for hours if it meant getting to see him like this. Sadly, he pulled you off his dick way too soon for your liking.

"Wha-but you haven't cum yet!", you whined.

"That's 'cause I'm gonna cum in this pretty pussy.", he stated before flipping you over, leaving him on top of you once again.

"Been wanting to fuck you for so long, you know that? Always skipping around in those damn skirts, teasing me...", he kissed you before you could reply. His rough hands traced about your body, squeezing and kneading at your flesh wherever he could.

You let your knees fall open next to his thighs, opening up for him. When the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You okay, baby?" he asked when he noticed your sudden nervousness.

"Yeah..."

"That doesn't sound very convincing", Sy spoke, sitting up a little. "We don't have to go any further, you know that right? I'm perfectly content just arguing with you over a bookshelf", he grinned and you felt yourself relax.

You gave him a sweet smile and tugged him down for a kiss. The kiss was slow and meaningful, different than before. When he pulled back, Sy's eyes found yours, "What's going on, hmm?" he asked, his tone calm and caring.

"Just been a while...", you stated shyly.

"Been a while for me too, honey, a long while", he admitted.

"How long?", you asked curiously, making him chuckle. "Seven months.", he replied, "and I can wait another seven if you want me to." It was your turn to chuckle, "Luckily, I don't want you to", you kissed him again.

"Since Cory's pool party...", you mumbled against his lips.

"Hmm?"

"Cory's pool party, when I first met you. Don't know how long ago that was exactly, but that's how long it's been for me".

Sy stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't read his expression, but after a few beats, his eyes softened. He leaned in closely, his cock still stiff between your legs.

"Seven months", he whispered, "that's how long that's been."

His words and what they meant hung in the air for a couple seconds and you couldn't figure out what to say, so you settled for, "Fuck me, Sy. Please?"

He grinned and reached in between your trembling bodies to grab his cock, pushing it between your folds. "I'll go slow, sweetheart. Trust me. If I don't, this s'gonna be over real soon".

He slid inside with ease, the stretch was there but bearable. His head dropped to your shoulder when he was fully in, hot breath and scruffy beard tickling your neck. Your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to urge him deeper somehow.

After what seemed like a century (not that you were complaining), he dragged his hips back, sliding almost completely out of you before pushing back in. He repeated his movement a couple times. Your whines turned into moans, getting louder as his thrusts got rougher.

"Fucking hell...best pussy I've ever had", he groaned, pumping into you at a faster pace. He hiked up one of your legs higher over his hip, making him hit inside you deeper while grinding on your still-sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly. Your nails scratched over his biceps and he groaned in your ear. Neither of you was gonna last long and you both knew it.

"Mine", he growled and you almost came on the spot.

"Yours, Sy! Only yours!", you kept babbling while he absolutely destroyed your body, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum for me, baby, fuck..."

Your final orgasm of the night consumed you. "Cumming! I'm cumming...fuck please cum inside me Sy, OH!", you moaned so loud you were sure the neighbors heard you, but you didn't care. Sy grabbed your hips roughly as he chased his own release, following suit before yours was even over.

He looked godly. His hairy chest was all sweaty, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut...you swore you got another tiny orgasm just looking at him and feeling his cock throb inside you.

"Shit...", he groaned breathlessly, "I swear I usually last longer...", he started but you stopped him right away. "Sy, you made me cum three times in the last 45 minutes. I don't think I would have survived any longer."

He chuckled as he fell on top of you, squishing you in the process. You hummed happily, stroking his back while his cock was still buried deep inside you. You could barely breathe but you didn't care, if this was how you met your end, it seemed like a good way to go.

Taglist;

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[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted-

Jake Syverson x Reader AU (Sy x Buttercup)

You fell in love with Captain Syverson 20 years ago. 17 year old Football and Baseball Captain Jake Syverson, that is.

You two didn’t make any sense: you were the new girl in town, and Sy was the Homecoming king, but you were his shotgun rider in his iconic Ford Bronco for a few majestic months in 2004.

An unplanned pregnancy, deception, and duty tear you two apart. Forever.

So you thought.

Life took you across continents, marriages, and careers as you both grew up, and you thought your heart was safe. But the feeling you got when you saw Captain Syverson, US Army, Retired, at your 20 year reunion was quite the unexpected twist in your orderly life.

This reunion causes your lives to collide in both the best and the worst ways. Will you run, or ride or die?

Old feelings and new promises.

Angst, fluff, and smut.

This one’s got it all.

Ao3 Link

Part I: ...And I don't know what you're doin' tonight…

Part II: Pedal so heavy...

Part III: Drivin’ you crazy…

Part IV: …Anytime you’d like

Part V: Wherever You Take Me

Part VI: Came out of Nowhere

Part VII: One Day We Won’t Be

[swiss-mrs]

Can you write a second chance a love with SY. He and reader were exes and tension has built up where he can’t help but kiss you and profess that he still misses you. Thanks!

Second Chances

Captain Syverson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of Failed (Military) Relationships, Mentions of Fighting/Regretted Words Exchanged, Slight Sexism/Toxic Masculinity/Trad Views, Self-Doubt, Slight Depression, Sy is Able to Lift Reader, Angst with Happy Ending (As Requested)

Reader/Unnamed OC Description: No Physical Descriptions, No Mentions of Race, Height, Weight, Ethnicity, Etc., Age is 25+, Sy is 35+, No Use of Y/N, Only You/Your Pronouns, Mentioned as “darling" and "beautiful", otherwise gender neutral.

Life is… fine. Wake up. Go to work. Come back home to your apartment. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. There wasn't really anything to complain about, but there was a notable loss. The only thing is now you're just used to it.

In the beginning, it was always the little things, someone passing with a similar cologne, a specific food brand at the grocery store, a familiar street you no longer pass by as often. Eventually, the watery eyes tamed to a pang in your chest. Now, it's all just numbness. Even with friends, your smile makes appearances again, but the happiness doesn't quite reach your eyes the way it used to. It's been so long, they just stopped mentioning it, but you still notice the occasional pity look.

It's a crazy thing to think about how you've lived more of your life without him than you have with him, but that doesn't lessen the effect.

You'd survived your childhood, your teenage years, and early twenty-something without him. After meeting the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, you'd be foolish not to reciprocate his advances. Though you shortly had your skepticism after finding out his occupation, he was quick to assure you he was no quick trip, and ultimately, you caved.

And he for sure had you, for years in fact. He had you completely believing every one of his ‘I love you's and ‘forever's, yet here you are, missing the way he'd fill up the space in your life.

You'd had a life before him, a decently fulfilling, single life until he showed up and screwed that all up. He wasn't necessarily your first ‘love’, but he was definitely your first ‘true love’. And, now, you were feeling the effects of that loss.

The first thing that hit you after your split with Sy was anger, pure reactivity to how everything ended. How dare he call you ‘too much’. How dare he try to pull the whole ‘you signed up for this’ bullshit. He had the audacity to make every problem your problem. Fuck him for making your ‘forever’ just another failed military love that should've known better.

You were soon to block him, not wanting to hear any of his ‘I'm sorry's or ‘can we talk's. You'd already talked, talked a little too much. You were done. ‘Let it die’ was your mantra for months. He ruined you, had you looking in the mirror different. You couldn't talk to anyone, express yourself, ask for help, be vulnerable without seeing it as annoying, dramatic, ‘too much’. Maybe, it was just you?

You took it upon yourself to change, distance yourself, drift away. Was it just you? No one made a comment about how they suddenly heard from you less. Were you really too much?

For a long while, you wished he'd cheated, abused, something, anything to make you hate him. Could you really hate him for it? You didn't work out. That's not his fault. He didn't understand you, and a couple of rude words weren't nearly enough to hate him. He was ultimately a good guy. He was never unfaithful, never would even dare to think of laying a hand on you, but when it was all said and done, he was a bit neglectful. But, how much of that was him, and how much of it was his job? Oftentimes, it was hard to distinguish. Too often was it an excuse.

Did he love you? sure. Could he have loved more? yes. Too often did it feel like he was one-sided. You were there for him, not the other way around. You are his, not the other way around. You needed him, not the other way around. And to have that shoved back in your face when you brought it up was not the right reaction. He shouldn't feel like an animal cornered when you brought up a concern, something he did that hurt you, but he did. A valid point shouldn't be shot down or argued with counterpoint, but it was. Now, you can only second guess yourself, and that shouldn't be how it is, but it is.

You loved too hard, that will haunt you. He loved too little, and that will forever haunt him.

He hated himself. You were everything he ever prayed for, a beautiful partner with a beautiful smile and a beautiful soul, someone he could have forever. He didn't realize that the thought of ‘having someone’ was wrong of him. He was selfish. You never did anything but show him your heart, your mind, and he blew it up in your face. He destroyed something, someone so beautiful. A day hasn't passed that he wasn't filled with regret. He couldn't even smile or laugh anymore. He became scary.

He'd lost the one piece of true happiness in his life, and it was his fault.

He craved you. He needed you, but he was too late. Why couldn't he have realized what he had sooner? Appreciate you like you deserve. Love you like you deserve. He knows he has it in him, but he just couldn't. fucking. see. it. He wants to kick his own ass for it. He desperately wants to turn back time, go back with the mindset he has now, or at least beat it into his past self.

He'd gotten too damn comfortable being in the military. Vulnerability is weakness. Why would he use his words? Why think about anything, decode? Feelings are best buried. He's a man's-man, and a man only needs to protect and provide

He believed that ideology never gave him issues until you. You challenged that ideal. You asked him for his thoughts, his feelings. You wanted to know. You cared. It annoyed him. Why the fuck would he care? Sure he had thoughts and feelings somewhere, but he pushed them down. Why bring them back up? You surely had too much time on your hands to be concerned with what he was thinking. You wanted connection. He knows that now, but what is that going to do for him now?

He immediately felt the effects of your absence. He was deployed when you left your shared home. He watched you leave on the security camera, car packed to the brim. Sure, he had felt a type of way about it then, but then he was only apologizing for the sake of it. He was just another man in the wrong. Apologize to your upset partner, make up, and move on, but oh, was it so much more different now.

He was filed to the brim with remorse. Even then, he had visions of your shared future, retiring or climbing ranks to settle in one place, building a family, a home, preferably on a large, secluded plot of land. How he looks on with different eyes at that ‘future’ now. He never truly believed in all that ‘grass is greener’ ‘know what you have ‘til it's gone’ B.S. until he'd lost you. He gets it now.

It wasn't until that switch was flipped for him to realize you blocked him, excommunicated. He was gone so much that he never got a chance to build any sort of relationship with your friends. It irritates him now that he is probably known as just the shitty military ex. The closest thing he has to you is a friend of a friend of his who is a friend of a friend of yours. At first, he'd rather die than try to reach out to you that way, but now, there was no line, no bridge he wouldn't cross to just get one more moment with you.

He'd been stewing on it for the last year and a half. You'd moved and blocked him. It seemed utterly hopeless to reconnect, but something came up recently that has him itching again.

He's been promoted. A good job, good position, and in one place. It was perfect. The start of your ‘forever’ together. The only thing missing is you. Friend of a friend² be damned. He had to fix this, and just his luck to find you. Just your luck to be found.

It took several minutes for you to lay eyes on him, but he spotted you immediately. The second you walked through the door of your new favorite café, he saw you. He couldn't believe it. He originally pulled himself into this place because it simply reminded him of you. It had you written all over it. He felt closer to you here. He wouldn't have guessed you would just walk in like this. His eyes followed you as you stood in line and ordered.

He noticed you glance around the café briefly and still not spot him seated at a back table facing the exit. His heart raced, seeing your eyes wander before going to your phone. He knew that look, though. You were only fidgeting with it, trying to make yourself look busy to avoid any social awkwardness. It made him grin as he stared longingly. There were some things that didn't change.

It had been a whole two years since you last saw Sy, about eight months since you stopped seeing him in every stranger. You weren't going to back track now, so you stared down blankly at your phone to keep yourself from staring at the familiar looking guy in the corner. He was missing a thick beard and a shaved head, but with a quick glance, he looked an awful lot like heartbreak.

Sy knew he was on borrowed time, the chances of you sitting alone in any kind of restaurant was slim to none, and considering you weren't looking for seating meant you were grabbing and going. He had to think of something and fast.

His body was standing, and his feet were moving before his mind could catch up. It wasn't until he was about two feet away that he stopped and started panicking. You noticed the man standing in your peripheral, but you kept your head down to avoid any awkward eye contact. That was until your name fell from his lips, causing you to look up from your phone.

“Sy?” Your eyes widened and your brows furrowed together. Your heart immediately started blasting in your ears. You couldn't breathe. You'd thought about running into him again, about all you wanted to say to him, telling him off? apologizing? But that was before your move, before you forced him out of your mind. Now, you were face to face with your anxiety and dreaded nightmare. Your name was muffled from his mouth and to your ears the second time.

“Hi. How have you been?” He wanted to punch himself in the face for how casual that came out, but he quite honestly couldn't think of anything better to say without falling over his own words. He awaited a response from you, but you only stared like a deer in headlights.

You genuinely couldn't hear a word coming out of his mouth. Was he talking? He had to have been. His mouth was moving, but it was like his voice was muffled. Something you assume was your name came out again before your name was called a bit louder by a different voice behind you.

You whip your head around to find a perky barista with a drink in hand, looking in your direction. You scurry over to her and take your drink with a curt thank you, as polite as you can muster in this moment. Without even a second glance, you're making a rushed escape for the exit. Your name is called again, but you're tunnel visioned on the door out.

Sy's stomach tightens and drops at the sight of your flee, but again his body is in full control at this point. He's utterly in shock. He didn't know what to expect, but this was his chance. All he knew is that he couldn't let you leave, not again, so this time, he chased after you.

As soon as you're out the door, he's right behind you, having to catch the door from slamming on him. He calls out for you again, but you don't stop, so he keeps running.

It's once you're passed the café windows that he finally catches up. He reaches to grab for your arm but quickly changes his mind to just step in front of you instead. “Wait! Please, darlin’, wa-”

“Don't call me that.” He's taken aback by the sudden words but retracts nonetheless.

“Please. Wait.” It was at this point that you both have fallen silent that you get a good look at him. His hair has grown out of its ‘tactical buzzcut’ and into a pretty generic cut that was redeemed by the dark curls atop his head. His beard was now trimmed down to only some scruff and a mustache. It was an odd combination of seeing him with more and less hair than usual, but he was just as handsome as ever, unfortunately.

The pause between you both was long. Though it should be awkward, it was also strangely comfortable or rather empty. Being in each other's presence again was like putting on an old hoodie. It was cathartic and familiar, but the memories, the history, was hard to get passed. Your name falls from his lips again, a lot softer and barely there. Your eyes were trained on his face, unable to look away. His were downcast.

“I… I….” His eyes close as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to gain some composure. His bottom lip juts out a bit as his mouth tightens into a little frown. “Please, I need to talk with you.” He opens his eyes, encapsulating your gaze in his.

The sight of his eyes outside of your memory is enough to empty your brain of any thought, so you remain silent. But he needs an answer from you, so he waits.

“What is there to talk about?” You say. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you built walls that weren't there before, and it shakes him to his core. He did that.

“A lot.” He sighs, huffing out a singular humorless laugh through his nose. His face briefly quirks like it wants to give a smile to match the short laugh, but the overwhelming weight of the situation at hand just won't allow for it.

You stare up at him for a few beats of silence, both of your chests tight with anxiety. You've never seen him so close to breaking down. He's never seen you so blank. Neither of you really knows what to do, but eventually, your eyes fall from his face before you walk passed him.

Sy freezes. The world around him simultaneously crumbles and halts. His breathing completely stills. You don't get five steps away before you turn back and call after him, “You want to talk. I'm not giving you another chance to do so.” You say, expecting him to follow you. As soon as the realization hits, he moves with haste. He's beside you walking before you're even done turning back around.

It was a good two blocks before Sy spoke up. “How have you been?” He tries again, looking over to you as you walk.

“Fine.” You answer curtly. It makes Sy frown again. It's the kind of ‘fine’ you'd give a stranger, and he hates that that's what you've become. He feels a bit shut down but continues. This is his chance.

“Well, that's, um, good to hear.” He states, but the end of the sentence inflicts an upward tone, almost into a question.

“I wasn't for a long time, but now, I'm fine.” You add, and it's the hardest punch in the gut Sy has ever received. His jaw clenched as he nodded. He swallows, trying to carefully choose his words, knowing how much each one counts.

“Darlin-” He cuts himself off by correcting it to your name. He sighs again, “Please, genuinely hear me when I express how sorry I am.”

“I'm sure you are.” He glosses over your response, continuing.

“Look, I know I've said it before, but, in all honesty, I didn't-” He cuts himself off again, making sure he words it correctly.

“Didn't mean it?” You finished, a bit annoyed.

“No.” He's quick to correct, “I meant it.” He says, determined, “I knew that I had made you upset, and I knew to apologize for it, but I didn't really know the meaning behind it.” He admits. “I didn't understand.” He confirms what you already know. “I was foolish. Stuck in an old way.” He pauses with another frown. “I didn't understand why you wanted to dig into me. I didn't understand that you were only trying to connect with me, really connect. I got defensive. ” He looks up from the ground to your eyes with a sad, guilty look, like he's confessing. “I was stupid and didn't believe in sharing every part of me with you.” He slows his pace, forcing you to match until you're stopped in front of him.

You're facing each other as he continues with his confession. “I thought doing so would make me less of a man, but I understand now.” He gives you a quick, little, sad smile before it disappears into a guilty frown. “I understand that it was an integral part of strengthening our bond, our love. You'd show me every part of you in return for me doing the same, and we'd accept each other, every part.” He gives another sad smile that breaks your heart all over again. He looks down shamefully with a hard look on his face, “I understand now.”

You look at him with a sad pout. Half of you wants to give him a piece of your mind. Two years!? It took all that time to just now fucking realize what you were asking of him!? But the other half didn't know how to feel. What is he trying to do? Redeem himself? What.

“So that's it? You just wanted to give me an actual apology?” He can see that your walls are still up. He fixes his jaw.

“Yes, but,” He starts. He knew that you weren't going to just fall into his arms, but he still hoped it would be that easy to just pick up where you left off. He sighs with his eyes closed, this time shakily, nervous. It confuses you as you've never seen the Captain Syverson nervous. “I've been…” He stops short, pausing. Jesus, you never thought you'd see the day this immovable mountain of a man revert to the demeanor of a reprehensible child. “I know we can't pick up where we left off, and I kind of don't want to,” He tries again, this time getting a confused and slightly offended expression from you, “but can we, maybe, start over?” He looks at you with the most hopeful, pitiful puppy eyes you've ever seen, another thing you never thought you'd see from him.

The air forcefully leaves your lungs as all the progress you've made through the years to try and make yourself impenetrable leaves with it. Your chest tightens as you try to will the upcoming tears away. It's your turn to let out a humorless laugh. You shake your head, looking off into the distance, “You really hurt me, Sy.” You look back at him with the most heartbreaking expression. He nearly looks close to tears at the sight. “I'm too much. I'm needy. I expect too much.”

“No, no, no.” He stops you, stepping closer only to get you retreating from him. Your step back drives the heartbreak further into his chest. He shakes his head in utter disagreement, a disgusted grimace on his features. “You're not. You're. not. I was foolish and childish, and I was not ready for you.”

“But you're ready now?” You interject in disbelief.

“Yes,” He states firmly without hesitation. He steps up again. This time, your body visibly tenses, but you don't move away. “I'm more than ready. I need you.” He takes another smaller, gentler step forward. “I hate that it took you leaving for me to see that, but I do.”

“Sy-”

“Please. Please. Don't say it's too late. Don't say we can't try again. Please, just one more chance.” He looks down abruptly like a private who just got caught looking at a superior officer. He's begging. He knows how he hurt you and your trust. Like a dog showing its belly, he's trying to show you his submission. Ultimately, it's in your hands, but he's determined.

You stare at him while trying to decipher the mess in your mind. “Sy.” You say a bit more calmly. His demeanor doesn't change. You sigh, “How do I know you wouldn't just fall back into old habits? What if, even after all this, you just repeat the same closed book bullshit? What's different?” You try to find his eyes, but they remain downcast as he stays still.

“I've been promoted.” He states a bit detached, purely stating fact, anything you want from him. “I'd no longer be in the field, no longer deployed. I'd be in one place.” He purses his lips into another right frown. “It's the start of what we used to talk about.” He says, words laced with hope and nostalgia. “Remember?” He tests, voice as soft as silk. Your eyes sadden even more, looking down with a miniscule nod. “I can settle down. Stop putting myself in the line of fire every day. I'd come home to you every night, wake up with you every mornin’.” His eyes soften as they peer up at you through his dark eyelashes. “Get that dream house.” He raises his brows with soft eyes and a sigh of a grin.

“Sy.” He quickly follows with your name before you continue. The gentle way your name rolls off his tongue makes your heart race at a concerning rate. “I,” you sigh, “I can't just run back to you after all this time.” You scoff out a sad laugh.

“So, let's just start with a date.” He tries again softly, melting your heart in your chest. “No pressure, no expectations, just one do-over.” His eyes flutter softly as his eyes return to their submissive downcast. “A reintroduction to the people we've become. A second first date.” He concludes. You can't help but let out a soft giggle despite trying to hold yourself together. Though it's sad, Sy has never heard a more beautiful sound. His chest swells with hope.

It takes time for you to make up your mind, and he gives it to you. Your everything was already screaming at you to say yes, but you couldn't let him know that, so you took your time. “Okay.” You cave. Sy's brows shoot up, and his face breaks out into a huge, mouth agape smile. The image of pure, overjoyed surprise.

He can't help himself but close the distance between you and scoop you in his arms, twirling you around, with a victorious laugh. The shock of it all and contagious joy causes you to let out a small giggle. He looks up at you in his arms and drops you down enough to plant a kiss on your lips. Though quick, the kiss was filled with nothing but longing and love.

As if realizing what's happened, he's quick to gently set you back down and take a step back, returning to the same distance you were at prior. He is a bit awkward with his hands before setting them on his hips. He still has a bright smile on his face, “I,” he huffs, “You have no idea how you've just made me the happiest man to ever exist.” He tries to just quickly move passed what just happened. “So, could I, maybe, get your number?” He says, trying his best to contain his joy.

You laugh, admittedly a little awkward. “It's the same one.” You fidget, “I can, uh, I'll unblock you, as long as you have the same number as well, I mean.” You stumble. He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's the same one.” He sighs, content. His eyes are filled with admiration and adoration, like you hung the moon and stars single handedly. It was everything you ever wanted from him to see his love within him.

You quickly pull your phone out and unblock his number on the spot. “There.” You shoot him a quick text. Even after all this time, his tagname never changed in your phone. You hear his phone ding moments later, and he pulls it out with an even brighter smile and a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd see your name pop up in his notifications again. Once again, it's always the little things that are missed.

“Are you free this weekend? Friday night, maybe?” He asks. You give him a small smile and a nod. “Great! Great, I'll- I'll pick you up? We can get dinner after work and…start over.” He sighs. He's both a little sad and over the moon. He wants nothing more than to do a quick catch-up and just start pouring his love into you, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. You give another small smile.

“I can't wait.” You say. He nods curtly. “You can tell me all about your new job.” His face brightens at you, showing interest in him again. He steps forward to stand beside you, holding out his elbow.

“Let me walk you to your car.” You breathe out a small chuckle before hooking your hand in his elbow, taking back to the café parking lot. Just a few paces in, Sy leans in closer to you to whisper in a low tone, “I know we're going to go slow, but I just want to say… I missed you.” You look into his deep blue eyes before looking down at his mustached lips.

“I've missed you too.” You whisper back with a small smile.

The remainder of the work week, Sy was notably different, even getting some teasing comments from coworkers. Your friends tried tearing into you, asking why you suddenly looked like the life returned in you, but you kept your lips sealed. You were taking things one step at a time with Sy.

The most anyone got was “I have a date.”

____

I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I hope I did it justice. (sorry it took so long. I've been a bit under the weather😅)

Masterlist

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @solacedthistest

[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.

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'. 

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break! 

.

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit. 

Until now. 

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire. 

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him. 

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no. 

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime. 

The man could swear he was going crazy. 

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact. 

It was just the effect she had on him. 

If there was anyone to blame it was her. 

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter. 

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness  

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose. 

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to. 

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing. 

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more. 

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more. 

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers. 

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh. 

Of course. 

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had. 

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck. 

He was going to tear her apart. 

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her. 

Mind, body, soul… heart. 

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered. 

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane. 

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes. 

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible. 

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.  

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain." 

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him. 

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered. 

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing. 

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine. 

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose. 

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly. 

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger. 

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?" 

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower. 

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day. 

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment. 

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin. 

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot. 

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise." 

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists. 

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further. 

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin. 

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant. 

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her. 

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat. 

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy. 

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes. 

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before. 

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?" 

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!" 

She was breaking his fucking heart. 

It was officially official. 

Abel Ford Syverson was in love. 

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love. 

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew. 

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right. 

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder. 

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?" 

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There. 

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one. 

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.  

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest. 

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts. 

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. 

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards. 

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond. 

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last. 

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock. 

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already. 

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler. 

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew. 

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner. 

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds. 

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?"  She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh. 

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming. 

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this… 

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled. 

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take. 

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what. 

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure. 

A lady that he had found at last. 

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already. 

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.  

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety. 

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased. 

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter. 

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought. 

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the  renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone. 

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink. 

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please." 

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.  

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha." 

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

.

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

[deandoesthingstome]

Fantasy Hotel

Pairings: Monster!HC characters x Reader (I don't know how many there will be.)

Series Summary: A new hotel just opened up in town with promises to fulfill all your monster fucking fantasies. You were a little gun shy at first, but you come around. Again and again.

Fic links, warnings, notes, etc, under the cut since these can change at any moment.

Warnings: As with all of my fiction, 18+, NO MINORS. We're talking monster fucking, p in v, p in a, possibly some DP, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, maybe a hint of CNC, light dom/sub dynamics, biting, blood sucking, exhibitionism, fantasy (as if not apparent from the title and subject matter

Word Count: 32K-ish

A/N: I don't even know if I should call this a series. Let's be honest at the outset: I've written one and half of another. I've an idea for a third. After that? Who knows?

Forest Fantasy - Werewolf!Walter x Reader

Labyrinth Fantasy - Minotaur!Sy x Reader

Gothic Fantasy - Vampire!August x Reader

Haunted Fantasy - Ghost!Mike x Reader

Medieval Fantasy - Witcher!Geralt x Reader

Back to Reality: A Final Fantasy - Werewolf!Walter x Reader

[loganbcrnes]

Captain Syverson & August Walker in the viking era (part 1?)

ok i just love a good old viking headcanon. I cannot stop imagining a bunch of my favourite characters in the viking era, totally feral and just fucking all the time sjdjsjd.

Henrys characters fit perfect for this era with their gruff beefy look. also this turned out kinda soft??? anyways enjoy!!

might do a part 2 if anyone is interested, just let me know! readers body type and ethnicity isnt described.

No warning, but mentions of smut, everything is consensual even though it may not seem it lol.

Captain Syverson

Sy grew up on a farm with his mother and father. he'd definitely be of Norwegian heritage. a farm boy at heart, grew up to be a fierce warrior after his parents were killed. Everyone feared The Captain, rumors spread like wildfire, to the point people thought he was sent from the Gods, or that he was a warrior god himself. he'd sail the seas around the world raiding, pillaging and trading. but deep down he was a romantic at heart and a traditional man. He longed for devoted love, a love he saw in his parents. He waited for a long time before he would finally meet you. because deep down, he wanted to go back to the farm, live a peaceful life as a husband to his wife and a father to his children.

eventually he would meet you, a woman who was taken from her home to be a slave to a king in Sweden. As he was pillaging the town to kill the king, he saw you in a farm house, a man was trying to assault you. Sy struck his sword through the man and he fell to the ground. You was wearing a light blue long-sleeved top with a brown skirt, but oh you were so beautiful. It was love at first sight even when the reader punched Sy in the face and ran away from the town into the forest. Sy knew from there that the reader was to be his wife.

Half the time Sy was feral, it was the only thing that could get him through the raids. He could let his inner beast come through. A couple of days later, trying to find you, he saw you washing yourself by a waterfall. He hid behind a big rock so he could watch you. He watched as you were drying your hair off, your body sun-kissed by the summer sun. He felt his cock harden as he looked your ass and breasts, so plumb and his for the taking.

As he came into view, you gasped as you saw him. He looked at you up and down, taking in your nakedness. Your breasts hardened at the cool wind blowing, but also because of the giant man staring at you. Your pussy on display, he wanted to taste you so bad.

Before you know it he has you pinned down, you let out a startled scream as he nuzzled his face into your neck, smelling your sweet scent. You knew this was wrong, you did not know this man, but something about it felt good. He was huge, while his hands were rough, touching you everywhere, even your most private areas which you blushed and looked away. His touch was still soft.

"W-what do you want from me?" You asked, unsure what to do. "Need you" Sy mumbled into your neck. "Please" You hear him whisper. Next thing you know you are being pounded into the dirt. You moan and scream to the point you are afraid someone will hear, his balls slap against your ass with each thrust. His broad thick hairy body wraps around your body. His pubic hair rubbing against your clit. You were so aroused that it didn't even hurt when he slid in, taking your virginity and filling you up with his seed. Oh there was a lot of seed, to the point you thought this was unusual. But you did not care, you were so far gone and the sexiest man was above you fucking and breeding you to the halt.

August Walker

August Walker, known as the king of Denmark to the people, was a Noble and commanding king, but harsh and silent. He was dominating, successfully winning every raid and war. other kings and queens were afraid of him. no one dared to disobey him. Many wandered if this man was even capable of love, because all they saw was a murderous man who got what he wanted every time.

He grew up with a cruel father, who would beat him and his mother after coming home drunk every night. After he killed his own father, August looked after his mother when she grew sick. Ever since her death he has always been alone.

Until one day.

In the middle of a raid, August all bloodied from the killing, saw a woman fighting off men as young girls and boys were standing behind her terrified. The woman was striking, and fierce. Never holding down even though he could see the exhaustion on your face and body. Oh your body. He could not see your curves due to the armor, but he knew you were beautiful, that made his cock harden.

after a successful raid, sitting at the high table in front of his warriors and civilians alike, they celebrated. you face appeared and he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Never has he felt this way before, he couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling, lust?, romance? maybe both? who knows. Only thing he knew certain off was that he wanted you in his bed that night. Upon meeting him, you were stubborn. You heard the rumors about this man. He fucked anything that moved and he killed anyone that pissed him off. Your attitude shocked him as no one treated him in such a manner, but it just made him want you more. You both did not leave the bedroom for 3 days. August lay awake as you cuddled him from the side. He looked at you, thinking of a life he could have with you, but for the type of man he is, he did not think he deserved such a life. But over time you proved him otherwise, with your stubborn nature, you brought four daughters and a son to the world who were equally stubborn. Now he cannot picture a life without the six of you. promising himself he will be a better father than what his own father was.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[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.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Part 7:

One Day We Won't Be

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: Confrontations and conversations.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. This part is plot with porn. Flashbacks, mentions of teenage pregnancy and heartbreak, the past in human form, important conversations with an important question. 😉. Black girl magic, natural hair care, supercenters. Shower sex, hand job, slight choking, finger f ucking, raw p in v, size kink, squirting, squirting oral sex, praise kink.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the seventh installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

——

May 2004

You and Sy were in your own little bubble most of the time you were at the prom. Of course you had fun with your crew, but you two were all over each other, and after a couple of hours, decided to cut out and head to the chalet. On your way out, you were stopped by Jeremy Atkins, who hadn’t spoken much to Sy since he’d broken up with Becca six months earlier.

“They are about to announce Prom Court, Sy. Word on the street is that you’re a cinch for King.”

Sy looked at you, and then back at Jeremy, sighed, and whispered in your ear.

“You mind if we stay just a little while longer, Buttercup?”

You pouted just a little, then grinned up at Sy, going on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. 

“Only if you keep the crown on all night. I mean allllll night.”

You giggled as Sy chuckled and grinned down at you.

“Even if I’m king, your wish is my command. Here. I see the goosebumps raising on your arms.” 

You grinned as Sy draped his tuxedo jacket around your arms. Now you were ensconced in his warmth and his smell. 

Stephanie Prince, the Student Body President, walked up to the mic on stage and said lots of words before announcing the court. You were too wrapped up in Sy to pay attention. When he was announced King, Sy picked you up when he stood, causing you to squeal before he put you down. Your classmates either laughed or rolled their eyes.

Sy reached the stage and winked at you, who was standing right in front taking pictures of your man.

When Becca was announced queen, you curiously watched her gain the stage. Becca’s high waisted ball gown was a little out of fashion, which was weird for her, but you figured she just wanted to attract attention. After they were crowned, Sy moved to get back to you as Becca stepped up to the mic.

“Thank you for this honor. I just want to make one announcement.”

Becca moved her hands around her waist, unfastening her skirt. Everyone gasped as they thought she was stripping, but she only revealed a sleek dress underneath.

And a very pregnant belly.

“I will be having a baby in August. And the father is your Prom King, Jake Syverson.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!?!?” 

Carla yelled it as the rest of the room was silent.

Your eyes searched for Sy, who was frozen halfway down the stage steps. His eyes were wide as he gaped at Becca.

She looked back at him triumphantly.

“Remember the night of your 18th birthday, Sy?”

Your mind raced. Sy’s birthday was in October, and right before you two got together. That would mean that Becca was almost 7 months pregnant. You felt the blood rushing in your ears as you started walking backwards toward the door.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at her, then, when he heard you sob, he searched for you in the crowd. 

You were out of the door, Carla and Tiffani and their dates hot on your heels, in under two seconds, flat.

—-

June 2024

You woke up with a start and stared over at Sy, who was sleeping peacefully beside you in his bed. This time it was you who watched him sleep as you processed the fact that Sy was here with you now, and what happened 20 years ago was over and done with. Your mind was trying to trick you with fear and anxiety. 

Sy had reached his goal of convincing you to give this a try this weekend, and you decided to risk it all by checking out of your AirBnB early and taking your rental back to the airport that morning because you wanted to spend every possible minute with him. 

“Now who’s bein’ a creep, Buttercup?”

Sy’s gravelly voice was heaven as he gathered you up in his arms, and the smile on his face was everything. 

You snuggled in with Sy, kissing his neck and enjoying his warmth. You let the skin on skin contact regulate your erratic heartbeat from the dream.

“Hmmmm. I wasn’t stalking you, promise Syverson, just thinking of everything I need to do to get ready for my interview tomorrow. Need look presentable and be packed, because my interview is at nine, my plane leaves at two…”

You trailed off as you thought of how your outlook on Monday had changed from when you’d first arrived back in town. What started as a lark was now serious. You were beginning to think that you wanted this to work between you and Sy, and getting this job would play a big part in that.

Sy looked down at you and kissed your forehead.  

“Come back to me, Buttercup. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.”

You looked up at him, “What?” 

You laughed a little, because you were unsure what he was speaking about.

“I can tell when you get into your head. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

You continued to stare into his eyes and then he nodded.

“And I was also talking about after you fly away tomorrow afternoon. I’m hoping that you will come back to me and we can continue this new relationship.”

You smiled, because Sy really got you. You kissed his hairy chin and listened to his heartbeat for a minute. You wanted to be there forever. But you didn’t say that.

“Well, I was thinking, I really need to do something with my hair. Want to do a twistout, but I need some products and equipment.”

Sy leaned back to look at you.

“Equipment?”

You grinned.

“Yes, equipment. Black girl magic requires some serious alchemy.”

Sy was interested now.

“What kind of equipment? I got a whole garage full.”

You bit your lip at how cute he was.

“I doubt that you have a hood dryer out there.” 

You lifted your hand to his hair. 

“But you rock these curls, Sy. You might.”

Sy laughed and ran his own hand through his hair to capture yours and bring it to his chest. You flattened your palm to feel his heart beat, which is what he wanted. 

It only beat for you.

“Anything you need, my lady.”

You giggled at his foolishness. Sy laughed with you.

“Seriously. Whatever you need to feel confident for tomorrow. It’s a big day.”

You looked into Sy’s hopeful eyes.

“You’re right. I applied on a whim when I saw the opening. It the dream, working for a company that designs and builds small, eco-friendly homes for the unhoused. It’s perfect.”

Sy watched your eyes sparkle, for about the sixth time, exactly the number of times you’d mentioned the company this weekend.

“Even if it's not my dream location.”

Sy smiled at you and grunted.

“Hmph. Avoiding me I see.”

You were about to give a facetious retort, but decided against it. It was time out for all of that.

“It wasn’t just you. It…”

“I know, Buttercup. Just teasin’ ya.”

Then his face turned serious.

“I need to tell you the full truth about something.”

Your heart dropped. 

“I know that ReHome is your ideal and all, but I don’t want you to get into the interview and be surprised. My company, Castle Builders, is the primary contractor for them. We’d be sorta, kinda… working together?”

The way he said it, with his face scrunched up like a little boy, was so adorable, but you were wary.

“And you let me go on and on about it, without thinking of mentioning that?”

You moved out of Sy’s grasp and sat up, covering yourself with the sheet.

Sy sat up and leaned against the headboard behind you, running his hands through his hair again and taking a deep breath. He needed to be careful.

“Yes. Because before this morning, I didn’t want to scare you off.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, giving him a side eye.

“And what happened this morning, Sy? Some bomb sex?”

Sy looked like a little boy again, younger than when you met him.

“You told me that you were mine.”

Your heart did a funny thing as you heard those words. You fought the urge to run.

“You weren’t square with me, Sy.”

You shook your head in disappointment, and he felt terrible.

“Don’t look at me like that, Buttercup. It’s killin’ me.”

Sy put his hand on your shoulder.

“Please. Listen. Don’t build this up in your head to more than it is.”

You didn’t look up at him as you turned your eyes to the sheets and tried to stop the tears from falling.

“I didn’t engineer the interview. I actually didn’t know until you told me last night. And I didn’t tell them to hire you. You got that on lock on your own.”

You chuckled and sniffled, wiping your eyes quickly. Sy’s heart broke, but he didn’t move because he knew you needed space. He was surprised you were still in bed with him.

“I haven’t been hired yet.”

“You will be.”

“You just said you didn’t tell them to hire me.”

Sy smiled and wiped a tear from your cheek. You let him.

“I didn’t. With your qualifications and roots in this town, they’d be idiots not to want to talk to you. Also, your background and experience is a definite plus for the clients.”

You looked at Sy a long time. He knew you. He knew what you and your mom went through back in the day, and he believed in you. So you decided to believe him.

“What are they going to do when they find out about our relationship, Sy?”

He grinned at that. He raised his eyebrow.

“So, we’re in a relationship are we?”

You rolled your eyes at him and tried not to smile.

“You know what….?”

Sy put his hands up and did some fast talking.

“Just kidding, Buttercup. Don’t get mad.”

He took your hand and pulled you closer.

“I think you know I want forever with you.”

You didn’t say anything, just allowed Sy to pull you into an embrace. You relaxed. He continued.

“We are in year two of a five year contract. I figure, by that time the contract is fulfilled, we will be on our way to creating a non-profit arm of Castle on our own…”

You watched how small your hand looked in Sy’s and wondered about the ‘we’ that he just uttered. You decided to chill.

He was worth it.

“Okay, Sy.”

You finally looked him in the eye.

“But no more surprises. I’m serious. If you want this to work, we’ve got to have truth.”

Sy looked down at you, amazed at how beautiful you were, and that you were in his arms.

“Oh, I’ll give you more truth than you can handle, Buttercup.”

He smiled at you angelically and leaned in for a peck on the lips. Then, moved to get out of bed and grinned as he went into the bathroom.

“It’s almost two pm, got to get a move on to build your dream salon. Where would we get this hood dryer?”

You stared at the ceiling, not believing that you and Sy were doing this domestic thing. You arrived in town two days earlier dreading seeing him and now you didn't want to leave. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, seeking clarity and peace.

“The supercenter should have them.”

You said it as you breezed past him, naked and on the way into the shower.

He was staring.

“I’ll never get over seeing you all wet, Buttercup.”

—-

Sy pulled you to him for a kiss as he stepped into the shower.

“Can’t ever get enough of you,” he whispered it in your ear as he handled your ass, his long fingers skimming your wetness.

“Same, Sy.”

Your hands were all over him, sliding over his shoulders with the hot water. You traced his neck, torso and abs, down to the throbbing muscle between you. All the while, you were kissing passionately, his tongue sliding through your mouth as if establishing ownership. 

Your hand slid up and down his cock, expertly now, squeezing in that way that made him groan and throw his head back, giving you a view of the corded muscles in his neck. The way your thumb slipped across the slick head of him made him tremble and you feel powerful. When your other hand slipped down to his balls and tugged, Sy had moved you against the cooler tiles of the shower wall.

“Fuck, Buttercup. You do that so godamn well…too fucking well.”

You went on tip toe for a kiss, sucking his tongue in time as you pumped his cock. Sy moaned in your mouth, then grabbed your throat as he bent further in order to suck your nipples, his lips, tongue and teeth making you quiver. You whimpered when his mouth came back up to your ear.

“You tryna make me spill before I see you come apart for me? Hunh?”

His voice was gravel and rumbled straight to your pussy. Sy’s pupils were blown as he looked at you through half closed lids, mouth open and panting as you worked him with both hands.

His grinned and held your gaze as he slowly inserted two fingers into his mouth and pulled them back out, causing you to tremble.

“Open.”

One word made you close to cumming untouched, and you did as he commanded. He inserted the same two fingers on your tongue. You closed your lips around them and started to suck. His cock jumped in your hands and despite the overhead shower spray, you felt more slick shoot from his tip.

Sy’s eyes rolled back into his head.

“Christ, this mouth, Buttercup. Those hands, so good for me. This. Pussy.”

He actually gasped as he removed his fingers from your mouth into your wet heat and started pumping.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me, baby.”

You rode his fingers as he started fucking you in earnest, the velocity at which his hand moved causing violent sprays of water all around you as you came on his hand.

“So fucking pretty when you cum for me Buttercup.”

You just whimpered as he turned you around, bent you over, and then pushed his fat cock inside you.

“Fuck, you’re so thick!”

“So fucking tight!” 

You both exclaimed at the same time.

Although you’d taken him plenty of times already, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to his girth. Sy was close as soon as he was inside you. Your warm wet heat was his weakness. He clutched you to him from behind as he finally slid home and you pushed back on him as he fucked you. Hard.

Water was jumping everywhere at the force of his thrusts and he created more leverage and a better angle by holding your arms behind your back. 

“Ugh! Feels s-s-so goooddd. Sy!” 

“Come on, give it to me baby!”

You came again on his cock, your fluid competition for the shower spray. 

“Fuck! I gotta taste that shit.”

Sy pulled out and got on his knees to lap you up and eat you out. 

After you came again, he stood up, picked you up and fucked your weak body against the wall. You rode him, clinging to him like a vine until you felt the hot jettison of his cum shoot inside you and drip down your legs along with the steamy shower water.

Next thing you knew, you were being shook awake and you found yourself naked and back in Sy’s bed.

“C’mon Buttercup. I let you sleep for an hour. But we really gotta get going.”

You moaned and rolled over, covering your head with a pillow.

“We can stay in bed. I’ll order take out and you can have your hair in pigtails for the interview.”

You bolted upright in the bed.

“I’m awake.”

—---

45 minutes later, you were bopping along in the grocery section of the supercenter, your cart full of hair supplies, looking for some snacks while Sy scoped out some meat and fish to grill. You were into this domestic shit. Suddenly, a kid, about 8 or nine years old, ran into your cart.

“Ooof! Sorry!”

He was adorable and grinned at you before he ran back to his mother, who was castigating him. 

“Josiah! I told you to look where you are going! Did you apolo– Y/N????”

You looked at the kid’s mother and blanched. Holy shit.

“Becca?”

She looked exactly the same, but older. And she didn’t seem perfect any more.

“Yes. It’s me. I heard you were in town for the reunion, but I always just missed you at the functions.”

She didn’t mention Sy, but if people told her you were at the reunion activities, they’d be sure to tell her who you’d left with. You decided to give her some grace.

“How are you? This your little one?”

Becca looked over at her son as if surprised he was there. She softened, and ruffled his curly hair. You both looked at him and saw Jeremy.

“Yes. he is my little. I have- I have four. Jeremy and I. Jeremiah… she cleared her throat, looking guilty as you both remembered how that pregnancy was announced. Jordan, Jade, and Josiah.”

You inwardly cringed but said, “How cute.”

Becca, chucked her chin up.

“Yes, we went with all J names. I know it’s not cool, but… this is us.”

You felt bad for a minute. Could Becca be looking for your approval?

“Hey… No, I like it….And he’s a beautiful kid.”

Josiah was now tucked under his mother’s arm.

“Yes, and he’s smart, and kind. My road dog.” 

Becca smiled down at him grinning up at her and she looked almost beautiful. She looked back up at you and then her smile dropped. You felt a chill in the air.

“Hey Sy.”

You looked back to see Sy behind you with meat that he reached around you to put in the cart. There was no mistaking what this was.

“Hello, Becca.”

Sy’s back was straight and his tone more formal. You got a glimpse of his command in the service.

Becca’s eyes surveyed the pair of you and she cleared her throat again. 

“You two always did make a handsome pair. You look good together.”

You had nothing to say to that, given your history, so you just stayed silent. The reality of the woman before you destroyed the multiple fantasies you’d had about gouging her eyes out.

Sy put his hand on your waist and drew you back on to him, almost like a shield. Damn, this woman hurt him.

You felt bad for all three of you.

“We do, don’t we?”

Josiah was tap dancing in the aisle now, and Becca shushed him.

“Yes. Well, I’ve got to go get him to soccer. Jordan’s looking forward to football this fall, Sy.”

Becca awkwardly turned her cart around in the aisle and spoke over her shoulder as she fled.

“Me too. I hear he’s even better than ‘Miah.”

Becca grinned as before she turned down the next aisle.

“Just you wait and see. Good to see you, Y/N.”

You both stood there for a second, letting the interaction sink in. It was anticlimactic for you and nerve wracking for Sy.

“You good?”

Sy was worried that this was going to send you over the edge.

“I’m great.”

You turned in his grip and gave him a kiss. 

“Let’s go home. I’m starving.”

The word home made any worries in Sy’s mind disappear.

—--

May 2004

As Sy pulled up to your place after the prom, the other two Powerpuff Girls and their dates were standing guard outside. Sy jumped out and started toward the house.

Carla stepped in front of him. 

"You don't wanna go in there, Sy."

"Don't worry, I got her, Bubbles. Let me pass."

"You don’t get to call me that anymore, Jacob. Turn the fuck around.” 

Carla blocked the way, Tiffani and the crew behind her.

“Please get outta my way."

"No."

"No?" 

Sy glared down at Carla. And she glared back up at him, unafraid.

"Did I stutter?"

Sy turned to Tiffani. 

“Listen, can you talk to her? Ask her to see me?”

Tiffani crossed her arms. 

“Now why would I do that? You embarrassed the fuck outta my friend tonight.”

Sy threw up his hands.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“Did you, or did you NOT stick your unwrapped dick into Becca Ferguson 6 months ago?”

Sy winced at Carla’s blunt words.

“Don’t get shy now, mutha–”

Tiffani put her hand on Carla’s shoulder.

“Look, I don’t think she’s going, but I will go tell her that you’re here.”

Carla glared at her bestie, but Tiff shushed her and turned to go to your front door. Everyone watched it open and accept her in, while Sy nervously paced beside the Bronco.

Ten minutes later, Tiff came out of the house with a box and his tuxedo jacket. She approached Sy, who stopped moving and was staring at what was in her hands. He looked from what was in Tiffani’s hands to her face.

“No.”

Sy was in denial as Carla approached him with a box of his things.

“Yes, Sy. You fucked up big time. She doesn’t want to see you. At all. These are some things of yours. And your jacket. Be careful. There is something for you in the pocket.”

“No.”

Sy wouldn’t accept the items, so Tiffani just opened the Bronco and placed the belongings in the passenger seat, taking your bag from inside.

“No! Buttercup!!! Y/N!!!!”

Sy charged toward your house as Gavin and Tony blocked him. They did a good job, after all, they were his defensive backs.

“Just go man. Give her some room.”

Sy looked at Carla as if he’d heard her for the first time.

Yes, he’d give you some space and in the morning, you’d talk. He looked at your door again and then down at his boots, kicking a rock before circling around and getting into the truck. He sat there, staring into space for a minute before he started the car.

“Hey, yo, man. You good?”

Gavin was concerned.

Sy shook his head. He wasn’t good. Not at all.

“This is wild, Ya’ know?”

“Yes. Yes it is. Be safe on the road.”

Gavin had little sympathy as he tapped Betty twice, signaling that it was time for Sy to leave.

Sy took one last look at your house, then started Betty and pulled away from the curb. He got home without realizing it, and started walking into his house. He stopped halfway to the door, and then ran back to the truck, diving for his things through the open window. Surely what was in the jacket was a note from you!

Sy knew it was over when he pulled his grandmother’s ring out of his tuxedo pocket.

—---

June 2024

Sy looked at the ring as he held it again. It was so delicate. And special. And you loved it back in the day. He hoped that you would accept it again. His heart beat was erratic and the meal that he’d carefully prepared threatened to come back up. He put the ring back in his pocket, scared that he would fuck up the good vibes of the weekend.

You were reading over your research on ReHome while you sat under the dryer. He smiled as he thought of how charitable you were toward Becca during your talk on the way home from the store. Instead of setting you off, the encounter seemed to calm you down. You were focused on the future, excited about the interview, and flirting through dinner. 

The ease by which you’d settled into his life in mere hours had him shook. He had hope that transcended time, but he was in awe that this really might happen. Sy watched the baseball game, trying to distract himself from you but instead he ended up staring at the screen while thoughts of you ran through his mind. 

You walked into Sy’s living room, clad in only his ARMY t-shirt and panties. You ran your hand over your twists and decided they were sexy. Your confidence was back. Today, you saw the truth. And the truth was that Becca Ferguson was just a flawed woman. And she had tried her best to stop what you and Sy had, but time and fate had you back together. Because even though it was 20 years later, Jacob Syverson still loved you.

And you still loved him.

You leaned against the wall as Sy stared at the television screen. He looked delectable in his grey sweatpants which stretched taught on his thighs and a Castle Builders t-shirt which was hanging on to his muscles for dear life. He caught sight of you drooling over him as he lifted his arm to rake through the curls on his head.

“Why hello there, Buttercup. Or should I call you Ms. Creeper?”

You laughed as you sauntered over to stand in front of him on the couch. He licked his lips and looked you and your attire up and down. He leaned forward and put his fingertips on the back of your knee. 

“I love you walking into my house and stealing my clothes. Looks good on you, baby. Damn good.”

His hand moved up your thigh and you trembled as you asked a question. 

“Who’s winning?”

Sy looked up at you and thought for the hundredth time that he wanted this for life. His heart swelled as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap.

“I am.”

You snuggled into his chest and nuzzled his neck, inhaling the scent of him and trying not to think of leaving the following afternoon. This was not how you pictured this weekend turning out. You just wanted to stay in his arms.

“Hmmmm, looks to me like it’s the ‘Stros, but maybe you’ll get lucky too.” 

You were grinning up at him when something shiny caught your eye.

You turned your head to see Sy’s grandmother’s ring between his pointer finger and thumb. Suddenly, a sound came out of your throat, a cross between an exclamation, a sob, and a laugh.

“Jacob Syverson!”

You sat up straight on his thigh with your mouth open and your hands covering it and looked from him to his grandmother’s ring.

“Buttercup. Now this is just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, that’s not worth much monetarily, but it means the world to me. I used to think that no one would want it, but my Gran told me that it was for my future wife.” 

You stared at the ring like it was the crown jewels, and of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. Then you looked at Sy. You were ready.

“A long time ago, I said that we were jumpin' the gun, and that we were too young, but I also knew that one day we wouldn’t be.”

You were sobbing now.

“Oh, Sy…”

“I will love you ‘til the day I die, Buttercup. I know this is super fast, but then again it’s taken 20 years. I just can’t help it. I can’t wait any longer.”

Sy lifted you off of his lap and went down on one knee on the rug in front of you. It felt as if there was no air in the room and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.

“Will you take this ring as a promise of marriage?”

“Sy… I love you. I do.”

Sy grinned and grabbed the back of your neck for a kiss as you tried to keep your wits about you.

“Now. What exactly are you asking me?”

“I am asking you to marry me, Buttercup.”

——

Hit Reblog if you like it!

[swiss-mrs]

You were asking for ideas about a future Sy fiction & an idea just popped into my head about “Shy Sy” & the “Karaoke Cowgirl”. Now, there’s NO WAY I could ever compare to your writing skills…but say Shy Sy calls & asks her for a date, she agrees, but everything goes horribly wrong……he spills beer all over her, clumsily trips over his own 2 feet, his truck gets a flat ( there is no spare tire), so they sit alone in the truck having the most fun conversation & maybe with a little cuddling to keep her warm?!?! (She only has a skimpy sundress on). As they casually talk, Sy becomes much more relaxed & finds her just adorably perfect?!?!

sorry this took so long. I have been going through some crazy writer's block. I think I got everything minus the beer😅 thank you for your support! hope you like this!💕

Your Shotgun Rider

Read Black Velvet (Pt. 1)

Word Count:

Warnings: Series of Unfortunate Events (First Date Edition), Adult Language, Some Suggestive Themes (No Smut), Petnames (darling and pumpkin), Reader is Able to Fit in One of Sy's Jackets.

Reader/Unnamed Character Description: No Descriptions Beyond Clothing (The vibes: one two three four), No Mentions of Age, Race, Ethnicity, Height, Etc., No Use of Y/N, She/Her Pronouns, Mentioned as "Girl"/"Pretty Girl" and "Little Lady"

Synopsis: After your meet-cute at the bar over the weekend, Sy gets you to go out on a proper date with him. Unfortunately, everything seems to be going wrong.

--💕👢💕--

It's time. Sy looked at the watch on his wrist and breathed out a heavy sigh. "God damnit!" He hits the steering wheel in a weak attempt to release some built-up tension. This was the 5th time he'd tried turning the ignition over to no avail. He was running good on time, thirty minutes early, to be exact, before he came out to his truck to try and head over to pick you up. Only to be cockblocked by his own damn pickup.

The last time he recalled, the thing was running smoothly. What in the hell changed?! He leans back in the driver's seat and drags his hands down his face in frustration, letting out a deep groan. His hands drop to his lap with a smack. With his eyes closed, he begins praying. "Please, to the powers that be, please let this God forsaken truck start so I can go see this girl." Without much hope, he opens his eyes and leans forward again to twist the keys again. Surprisingly, the engine roared to life.

Sy lets out a deep sigh of relief, closing his eyes and allowing his body to collapse slightly, forehead resting on the wheel. He lets out a chuckle in disbelief. "Thank you." He leans back up and shifts the truck into drive to head over to the address you'd given him when setting up your date over the phone.

Thankfully, you didn't live far. Your new apartment building was less than 15 minutes away from his house. He lived more on the outskirts of town as opposed to your apartment closer to the town center. He reckoned that if he pushed the speed limit, he could make it in there in 10. This was his town, after all. He knew the streets to avoid to be able to safely cut time.

Sy hated running late, much more now than ever. He didn't want to miss this opportunity. This was his first official outing with you. He had to make a good impression.

As he drove, all he could think about was you. Your laugh, your voice. Since you'd met two weeks ago, you two had built a strange little bond. You've gotten to the point where you can talk to each other like old friends, though all of it has been only over the phone.

You were extremely busy with basically zero down time. The combination of adjusting to your new job, apartment hunting, and now moving, you couldn't find time to do anything but work, sleep, eat, pack, and move. In between, you'd have your phone glued to your ear with Sy on the other end of the line.

Every time you talked, Sy could practically hear the stress and tension in your shoulders from carrying the weight of everything happening. He'd offered to help you move, but you turned him down, insisting you had more than enough help. Plus, you were moving things slowly, and didn't want to have him just drop everything he was doing at your beck and call just to move boxes. He never said it aloud, but he would be more than willing to be on standby for you.

Due to everything going on, Sy had made it his mission to make the little time you had together over the phone pleasant. Thankfully, you got his humor, so making you laugh was never a hard task. It hasn't been a day since he last spoke to you, but he already missed your laugh. Every time it came through the line, the image of your smiling face at the bar would pop up. Every time, without fail. It would always bring a smile to his own face.

The realization of him finally getting to see you in person again hit him hard when he finally reaches the street you live on. It's been two weeks. TWO WEEKS. He hoped you didn't forget what he looked like. Your image is engraved in his brain, one of his sweetest memories. That's when he spots you standing at the base of the stairs, just outside your apartment building. Somehow, his heartbeat both doubled in rate and stopped completely at the sight of you.

You're wearing a white dress that stopped mid-thigh. The skirt of your dress was light and flowy while the upper half was fitted to your frame, hugging you in all the right places. On your feet was a pair for dark brown cowboy boots. You looked utterly adorable and equally sexy. Sy found his eyes trailing along the skin of your exposed legs.

Sy pulled up to the curb, throwing the truck in park, and hoping out the driver's side to walk over to the passenger door, near the sidewalk.

As soon as he hopped out, your face lit up like the morning sun, eyes widening and face breaking out in a big smile. You wave at him and immediately start to speed walk over to him. Your sheer excitement made his heart warm. At least you were happy to see him, and in fact, did not forget what he looked like, as if you ever could. You fight the urge to run and jump into his strong arms.

"Sorry I'm late, darlin'." He blurts before you can get a word out. You're obviously taken aback by the apology. You scrunch your eyebrows and pout, tilting your head.

"Late?" You pull out your cellphone from your hidden pocket, clicking the screen on to check the time. "It's 6:03." You lock your phone and slide it back in your dress, looking back to him with a small smile. "There's no need to apologize for three minutes." You say positively. "You're here now, and I'm so happy you are." Your smile grows happily.

You have to clasp your hands together in font of your lap to physically contain yourself from jumping on the man in front of you. First off, you're overjoyed that you get to finally go on a date with him. Second off, he looks so damn good in his plaid button-down and jeans. You give him a quick once over. It looks like he'd given his beard a little neatening up. His shirt is ironed free of any wrinkles and tucked neatly into the waistband of his jeans. He has a brown leather belt that just so happens to match your boots perfectly. The circular buckle on the front has a horse on it, and his jeans hug his thighs just right, loosening back up as the fall passed his knees. On his feet are leather boots that are obviously a bit worn but sturdy. Must be his go-tos. Neither of you are dressed super fancy. Both cleaned up just appropriate enough for your date. You sigh out a happy sigh. "You ready to show me your moves?" You tease, raising a brow. Sy lets out a soft chuckle, showing off his teeth with his effortlessly charming smile.

"Now, little lady, I told you over the phone, 'I'm no dancer', but if it makes you happy, I'm more than ready." He gives you that smile that makes your knees go weak. He reaches for the door handle and opens the passenger door for you to get in. As you step closer, he holds a hand out for you to take, to use as leverage to get in the tall truck. You smile at him and give him a gracious nod and 'thank you' as you grab his hand to lift yourself into the seat.

Once you're safely in, Sy closes the door behind you and jogs over to his side, quickly hoping back into the driver's seat with one swift motion. He buckles up and looks over to you as he reaches for the gear shift, giving you another smile before shifting and driving off.

"Now, we have a little ways out til we get there. It's just outside of town. No more than 30 minutes." You look over at him as he drives, and he throws some short glances at you as he speaks. "So, uh..." He says, looking back and forth between you and the road. The happy, wide-eyed look you're giving him is making it awful hard to keep his mind straight. He clears his throat and decides to focus his eyes on the streets ahead of him, but the feeling of your eyes on him remains. "How's the move been so far? You likin' your new place?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your little smile grow a bit as you nod.

"Yeah, it's been going." You say with a soft chuckle and a shrug. "I at least have some furniture and kitchen stuff over, pots and pans or whatever, so I can now somewhat function out of my own place. It's looking a little less like a storage unit and more like a home, finally, minus the bedroom." You sigh and shift your gaze to the roads ahead as well. "I still have boxes to unpack and a bed frame I've been procrastinating having to put together, but it's nice." You smile, the pride of having a space to call your own swelling in your chest.

Sy glances over at you, eyes nervously shifting back and forth, contemplating his next words before just blurting them out. "I could help if you want." You turn to him to say something, but he continues before you get the chance. "I know you said you don't want me to 'be burdened with your move', which I would, by the way, be more than happy to help you with anything, so don't worry about burdenin' me." He quickly adds in, "I could at very least come by and put your bed together." He glances over at you again as if to let you know he's done with his little ramble.

You give him a little smile, so soft and warm it melts his heart down into his stomach. There's a short pause of you just staring at him with pure admiration before you nod. "Okay." You say with a smile. Sy raises his brows and glances over at you.

"'Okay'? Really?" He clears his throat, shifting in his seat a little in an attempt to cover up the surge of happiness that just ran through him. "Alright. I, uh, I keep some tools in the back." He points a thumb to the backseat. "After tonight, I could fix it up when I bring you back home, so you can have a proper bed to sleep on." He shoots you a smile, and you gently nod. He's so cute. You turn your head to look out the window. This burly man, 'if looks could kill' exterior mixed with his cinnamon roll personality played criminal tricks with your mind and your heart. It only left you pondering what he was like in action, when he was on-duty.

With his soft, sweet, and caring attitude towards you, it was hard to imagine him with a scowl, guns blazin', and dirty. It felt a bit forbidden, but a part of you was set alight by the pure fantasy of it. You could feel your heartbeat quicken at the thought. You purse your lips and try to quietly control your breathing, cheeks starting to burn a little. You nearly jump out of your skin when Sy speaks up again. "Is that alright, darlin'?" You turn away from the window to look back towards him, finding his gaze shifting between you and the road.

You take a quick breath in to try and compose yourself. You nod quickly. "Yeah, no, yeah, that's completely fine. Sorry." You shake your head and let out a small sigh with a smile. "Just got... caught up in my own mind." You try to play your fluster off. He throws you another brain melting grin.

"Well, hopefully, tonight can help you de-stress." He focuses his eyes back on the road, thank God. "New job, new apartment, new town." He shakes his head. "You sure got your work cut out for you." You let out a little laugh and a nod.

"You're telling me. Thank you for taking me out tonight, and thank you in advance for the bed." You give him a smile. He arches a brow and shoots you a glance out the corner of his eyes.

"Don't thank me yet. I might step on your feet, spill beer on ya or somethin'." He says, lighthearted but honest. You let out another laugh, filling Sy's heart.

"Okay, okay. We'll see how the night progresses, but I'm sure there's nothing you could do that would make me any less grateful. I'm truly happy to be here. I'm lucky to have met you." You say honestly. The way the truth rolls off of you was easy, but to Sy, it felt like you just gave him the world. He's about 98% sure you have no idea the effect your words affect him. His smile grows, showcasing his teeth proudly from behind his freshly trimmed mustache.

Before the conversation could deepen any further, a loud POP erupts through the truck, followed by an insane, anxiety inducing rattling and swerving of the truck.

You instinctively reach out to hold onto something, and Sy instinctively reaches a protective arm out to you, keeping the other one on the wheel to maintain as much control over the truck as possible. You had just made it on the country road highway not ten minutes ago, and from the sounds and feel of it, one of the tires popped.

Sy carefully pulls over to the shoulder, parking the vehicle halfway off the road. Thankfully, there just so happened to not be any other cars on the road, but, then again, not-so-thankfully, that meant no immediate help nearby.

As soon as Sy gets to the roadside, he takes his arm back to use it to switch gears into park. He looks in the driver's side mirror with a clenched jaw. You both already know it's the tire, but a big part of him just hopes that the mirror will give him a different answer. He holds in a string of curses, throwing open the door and hopping out. He turns to you once he's outside, "I'll be right back." He's visibly struggling to keep calm, and your heart is a nervous wreck from the loud noise and turbulence. You want to ask him to stay for a few moments until your heart slows back down, but you instead stay silent and nod.

He closes the door and walks towards the back of the truck to get a closer look at the tire that blew. Even though the doors are closed and the windows are rolled up, you could still hear the muffled swears Sy was letting out. Though, yes, the situation is terrible, and you feel bad. You couldn't help but giggle through your little heart attack.

You turn to look through the back window to find a very stressed looking Sy leaning his hands on the truck with his head down. You couldn't hold back a pity smile. Poor guy.

You could see him let out a heavy breath before standing up straight and waking back to the driver's side door. He opens it and pauses, fixing his jaw. He drops his head, letting out another deep breath before looking back up at you. "I'm sorry, darlin'." He starts. "The damn thing is completely busted, and I don't have a spare." He drops his hands from the truck to run the down his jeans. He reaches for his back pocket to grab his phone. You shake your head.

"Don't apologize. It's happens." Your optimistic tone and little pouty face softens the blow. He shakes his head with a chuckle.

"This has got to be the worst date. I'm sorry, pumpkin." He pulls out his phone, clicking the screen on and tapping at it. "One of my guys drives a tow truck for a livin'. There's no tellin' what he's up to right now. He's probably still workin', but imma try givin' him a call and see if he can lend a hand."

"Okay." You say with a relaxed smile. He sighs a soft grin, a gentle look in his eyes. His shoulders relax ever-so-slightly. He hates that you're stuck with him in this situation, but at the same time, he's glad he's stuck here with you.

"Just a minute, pretty girl." He winks, bringing the phone up to his ear and closing the door softly as he walks around to the front of the truck, leaning against the grill.

You watch him have the conversation through the windshield, waiting with your hands rested in your lap. The phone call doesn't last too long as barely five minutes pass by before he's hanging up the phone and rubbing a hand down his face. He doesn't make any attempts to move, so you take that as your opportunity to get out of the truck and walk towards him.

Sy lifts his head from the hand he has massaging his forehead to look over at you. "I'm so sorry, darlin'." He looks at you, guilt, embarrassment, and shame worrying his features. You shake your head and raise a hand to stop him, closing your eyes and looking away, a clear indication of not 'wanting to hear it'.

"No need. Like I said, you don't need to apologize for this." You lean next to him on the warm grill of the car and offer a soft grin. You lean over to bump your shoulder to his. "Any luck with your buddy?" He lets out another sigh, looking down at his phone.

"Well, like I suspected, he's still on the clock and currently helpin' someone else out, but he'll come and get us once he's free. Though, it may be a while." Sy slides the phone back into his back pocket before going back to rubbing his forehead.

"You know, you look really handsome." Sy looks up, removing his hand from his face and looking over to you. The smile on your face nearly makes him forget the unfortunate situation you're both stuck in. He can't help but adore the way your head is adorably tilted as you smile at him. It brings a little smile to his own face. He huffs out a brief chuckle and looks down at his boots, shifting his feet a little.

"Thank you, darlin', and you are just as beautiful as the day I first saw you." He gives you a pursed grin as if trying to contain his smile but failing. You blush and look away from him. You avert your gaze to the field just off to the side of the road, admiring the setting sun. The warm light makes you look as if you're glowing, and Sy can't seem to pry his eyes off of you. His eyes slowly find their way lowering, caressing your figure. "It's a damn shame you've wasted such a pretty little outfit on this."

Your head turns back to him with a scrunched nose smile and warm cheeks. Just then, the best idea pops into your head. "You know, it's not over yet." You pull out your phone, unlock it and open up your music app. "We still got time for a dance or two." You give him a teasing smile, glancing over your phone to him.

Sy shakes his head with furrowed brows. "You can't seriously be tryin' to get me to dance," He looks around, " out here."

"Oh, what?" You press play, setting your phone on the hood of the truck and stepping away from the vehicle. "Scared?" You reach for Sy's hand and weakly attempt to pull him to you. Sy lets you drag him off the truck with little resistance but doesn't let his face show how easily he's persuaded.

You close the distance between you two, Sy's hands finding themselves in yours. "Now, remember what I told you, darlin'.-"

"I know, I know." You hush him and pull him closer. "I don't care. Just dance with me." You squint at him, and he caves instantly, allowing you to bring his hands to your hips.

You tentatively leave your hands on his broad shoulders and begin swaying to the music, easing into a rhythm. You smile at him, gaining a timid grin back. Sy tries his best to follow your lead but is notably awkward and stiff. You can't help but giggle at this. "Hey, now, no laughin' at me." He says, trying his best to be stern but ultimately stiffling his own chuckle. You shake your head, trying to rid your body of its laughter.

"Yeah, okay. Sorry." You manage out through your badly contained giggles. Sy shakes his head at you with a smile.

Several songs and several close calls of him barely missing your toes pass before Sy finally loosens up enough for you to be a bit more experimental with your movements. You open the door to singing along to the songs you like the most. Sy surprises you with his own baritone singing voice, the shock on your face giving him the confidence to step back and spin you around.

When he pulls you back into his chest, admittedly a bit clumsily, you speak up, "Why didn't you tell me you had such a beautiful singing voice?" Due to the nature of the clumsy spin, you were tumbled into his chest, resting one hand over his heart and the other entangled with his. You could feel his heartbeat in your palm through his shirt. Its quick pace was endearing and sweet, causing yours to quicken as well. He gives you a bashful smile.

"I'm no singer, gorgeous." You scoff and roll your eyes.

"Oh, please. I quite literally just heard you. You're actively humming now!" You point out with a laugh. His chest rumbles with a chuckle. He shrugs and continues to hum along, leaving it at that. You give him a playful glare, which he ignores and only pulls you closer by your waist.

Not long after, the sun has disappeared to the point of turning the sky into a deep, royal blue, hinting at the dark night sky incoming. The headlights of the still running truck illuminate you two as you dance, creating your own personal spotlights.

Everything in this moment is sweet and wholesome. A day that started and continued to dampen Sy's mood ended up being one of the greatest he's had in forever, and every upside to this day is thanks to you. This was only your first date, but he knew from right then and there that he would one day make you his wife. He didn't want to scare you off, though, so he kept that thought to himself, twirling you around in the evening air.

Now that the sun was no longer providing its warm blanket, it started to chill. It could be smelt in the air before it began to fall. A spring shower was incoming.

Just as that fact became evident, little droplets started falling from the sky. At first, it was going ignored and partially unnoticed, but it couldn't be ignored for long as the droplets turned into a light sprinkle. "We should get back in the truck before things start getting worse." Sy announces, but you shake your head.

"No, no. Let's at least finish the song." You reply, giving him a bright smile. He melts and submits, letting you continue on with your singing and sways. He knows it's way too early to call it, but, God, he loves you.

Barely halfway through the song, rain starts coming down in clusters. The change happens within a blink of an eye and causes you and Sy to stop almost immediately. Sy pulls you in closer, flush against his strong body as if trying to protect you from the falling water. You let out a little squeak. "I think it's time to call it." He chuckles, ducking his head down to keep rain from hitting his eyes.

He starts leading you over to the passenger's side, keeping you as close as humanly possible the entire tread there. He throws the door open and damn near picks you up by your waist and throws you in. Just as your bum his the seat, you shout out, "My phone!"

Sy closes the door in response and runs back around the truck, grabbing your phone and jogging to the driver's side, hopping in and shutting the door behind him. He hands you your damp phone after doing a quick swipe on his jeans to get most of the water off of it.

You giggle as you take it from him, "Thank you." He chuckles with a head shake.

"You're a crazy little lady, aren't ya?" You tilt up your chin.

"Adventurous, Free Spirited, Yes." You proudly correct, matter-of-factly, earning another chuckle from Sy.

He looks over at you, convincing you your heart had stopped. His eyes hold nothing but pure adoration. You swear all your insides melted as soon as your gazes collided.

You both hold eye contact for what feels like an eternity. Time feels like a slow-motion movie scene, and despite the gloomy, blue hue from the rainy evening, the world suddenly has a rose tint.

You notice Sy's eyes drop from yours, down to your lips. You follow suit, but just as you were going to lean in, an angry shiver runs through you. Your eyes meet his again. A smile grows on his face. He scoots a bit closer to the middle of the bench seat to reach into the backseat, promptly grabbing a brownish Carrhart jacket and draping it over your shoulders, engulfing you in his scent.

As soon as it's over you, you slip your arms into it and bring it tighter around you, using all your might to resist the urge to bring it up to your nose.

Sy gives you another award winning smile that brightens his eyes. He'd never liked his clothes on anyone else so much better than himself, but here you are.

You take this opportunity to scoot closer to him, meeting him in the middle of the bench. He raises an arm, inviting you into his side. You snuggle in close as he rests his arm around you.

Sy reaches forward to turn the heat on low to try and help you both dry off a bit faster without overheating. You being so cuddled up to him warms the pit of his belly. He smiles down at you before tilting his head to rest on top of yours. "This has got to be the best first date I've ever been on." You confess. He chuckles, the rattling in his chest causing your head to bounce slightly. He sighs, content and whole.

"Hopefully, the first of many."

--💕👢💕--

I hope you liked it!!😫💕

[jamneuromain]

Mean Daddy

Logan Syverson x Reader (You)

Word Count: ~750

Warning: Mean!Sy, established relationship, fingering, spanking, sex toys (dildo), implied multiple orgasms/overstimulation

Summary: Your mean daddy comes home :]

A/N: This fic is purely under @gummydummy19’s influence. Blame her for encouraging my behavior XD

Sy had been gone for ten months for a deployment overseas. He couldn’t tell you where he was being sent to, but he promised he’d call when he’s not on the field, which gave you plenty of wiggle room to tease him over the phone.

Most of the time, you would listen to how he spent his day in the base camp, wrapping yourself in his hoodie so you felt close, as if he was hugging you from the back and murmuring by your ear. Occasionally, when you were feeling particularly naughty, he called you and you put the vibrator between your legs, moaning his name with your phone on speaker.

… and you might have accidentally compared him with the vibe, and claimed that the vibe is better.

Empty threats were thrown all over the place. You giggled and cleaned yourself up with wobbly legs when he growled on the other side of the phone, cursing your menstrual cycle and the fact that he was thousands of miles away, and the dark voice in which he warned you. That you would be spanked so hard that you would not be able to sit for a week after he returned from this tour.

You, of course, did not give a damn and fucked him over the phone every month before your period hit.

And, in return, shortly after his arrival, you were pulled over his knee for him to deliver his promise.

“The pathetic toy is better, huh?” He lands another ruthless spank on your sore ass, holding both of your hands behind your back, spreading your legs wide so that his hand could travel down to your soaked panties and mock you for it, “Which one is better now, sugar? Which one is making your pussy cry like a baby?”

You whine, spreading your legs a little wider to grind your neglected clit on his thigh. But Sy notices the angling of your hips. Tearing the panties from your bottom, he prods two of his thick fingers into your weeping hole, slowly circling your G-spot as you whine again in misery.

“Feels so good, you can barely speak?” Sy pulls his fingers from your tight walls, sucking on them lewdly loud, his chest rumbling in satisfaction, “Hmm, sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

Your juices soak his boxers. It has been months since he laid his finger on you (not to mention his cock). The vibe could only serve as a minimum replacement. You know it. He knows it.

And yet, he still punishes you for making a comparison.

“Sy, baby, I’m sorry, ‘kay? You’re the best.” You sniffle as the sensitivity brings you close to tears. You want, no, need to be fucked right this moment or you will explode, “Sy, please. Please put your thick cock into my pussy or I’d die-”

Your pathetic whines are cut off when he opens your bedside drawer, taking out a just as thick silicone dildo.

Sy lets out a cold hard laugh, “Cute. But I’m not done with you, sugar.” Wetting the silicone tip with your entrance, his only warning is “Relax, darlin’ ”, before pushing the monstrosity deeply seated in your pulsing walls, making you cry out in frustration.

“Fuck!” You moan as he grabs the base of the fake cock and attempts at moving it around.

Making sure the fake cock stays snuggled in your hole, Sy smacks your ass again. After a few rubs that eased the burn on your skin, Sy reaches your bundle of nerves, giving it an experimental squeeze, earning a yelp from your throat.

Jesus Lordy Christ, this man knows your body better than you do.

“Wanna play a game, sugar?” He smiles proudly, flipping your body around, not breaking a sweat at all, and places you on the bed on your back with your knees around his waist.

“No.” You huff, rolling your eyes as loud as possible.

Unless he is pulling out his cock right now, there’s nothing that could attract your attention or your enthusiasm.

Needless to say, the pain on your ass is subduing, allowing you to quickly forget what would happen if you are mouthing off to him.

Sy narrows his eyes. A dark glint rushes past his eyelids.

“Too bad. The game is called ‘How many times can you cum’, and darlin’, you ain’t getting out of this bed until you pass out.”