#sand castle henry cavill

[justiceiswater]

Aika my beloved! What a good girl you are! They make such a happy little family. I love how fast sy got to her, she played it off so chill but he knew!

Aika

Syverson x Fem!Reader

vignette: In the eyes of Aika, Y/N instantly became the dog's mama. And therefore Aika protects Y/N just as fiercely as Syverson.

words: 2,500+

masterlist

When Y/N started staying with Sy for long periods of time, Aika made her happiness very obvious.

Sy started calling Aika “Y/N’s shadow” with the way his dog followed her around. He teased them both about it, but deep down it warmed his heart. It was always a good sign when your pets approved of your partner and loved them. Sy didn’t know how he would’ve handled the situation if Aika seemed to dislike Y/N in any way.

It actually gave Sy a piece of mind that Aika was so attached to his girlfriend. He never expected Y/N to ever be in any sort of danger. They lived in the middle of nowhere after all.

But he did wish that Y/N had Aika when she was living in New York City by herself. After all, that’s when he was most worried about her.

Sy just got back from the hardware store when he saw Y/N walking out the front door in workout clothes and running shoes. Aika was prancing alongside her.

“Where you off to?” Sy asked with a smirk.

“Gonna go for a run,” Y/N pointed in the general direction of the main road. “Finished work early.”

Sy nodded. “Got your phone?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed.

There was an edge to her gaze, proving that she was catching his overprotective streak showing once again.

When Y/N’s walking reached him, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Her eyes glanced at the bed of his truck. “Need help unloading this stuff?”

“Nope. Go on,” and he smacked her butt.

Y/N yelped. “Rude!”

She should be used to it. Really. She should. But it still caught her off guard every time.

Sy was a handsy man. And when the two of them stopped being idiots and finally allowed themselves to be in an official relationship, he somehow got even handsier. Sy was a physical person, and he would always show his love and attraction to Y/N long before he verbalized it.

Aika whined and laid down next to Sy, chin on her front paws as she watched Y/N walk to the end of his long drive way.

Sy felt sorry for the poor thing. “Go on. Go with your mama.”

Aika’s head snapped up to look at her master.

Sy whistled down at the dog and nodded in Y/N’s direction.

Aika didn’t need to be told again, and jumped up, sprinting to catch up to Y/N.

She barked at Y/N when she was a few yards away.

And Sy laughed as he saw Y/N stop in her tracks and giggle at the dog, petting her for a moment before she finally started her jog.

Aika was in good shape and Sy knew she’d be able to keep up with her.

He expected Y/N to be just fine, but having Aika with her gave him an extra peace of mind. That dog would die before she let anything happen to Y/N.

Sometimes Aika would even get snappy with Sy when she thought Y/N was in danger. Sometimes their… "heated moments" could come off as something else to the poor dog. And there were a few times where Aika didn’t hesitate to bark or nip at Sy when she thought he was hurting Y/N in some way.

Y/N got a real kick out of it, always falling into a fit of giggles.

Meanwhile, Sy would mumble something about putting Aika up for adoption.

But Y/N knew nothing would ever push Sy to treat Aika as anything other than his child.

––––

Sy leaned down to carefully give Y/N her mug of tea.

Y/N was on her period. And even though she was quiet about it, Sy knew she was always in a lot of pain the first day or two of her cycle.

He tried to subtly coddle her so she wouldn’t feel like he was babying her or make her realize that he could obviously tell when it was that time of the month.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him softly as she took a sip of the tea.

“I’d offer to cuddle with you… but seems you already got someone to cover that,” Sy said gruffly as he looked down at his dog.

Aika was scrunched into a ball on top of Y/N, acting like she was a lap dog instead of a giant 70-pound German Shepherd. Her eyes peered up at her owner innocently.

Y/N smirked at her boyfriend's obvious annoyance and disappointment.

She pet Aika with her free hand and said, “Female camaraderie, Sy. Nothing can compete with that.”

Sy scoffed. Then he gave Aika a warning look as he snapped his finger and pointed to the other side of the giant couch.

He didn’t need to say anything more. Aika got up and moved over for her owner.

Sy was as about as alpha male as a man could get. And the way Aika responded to his commands was just further evidence of that.

“Heyyyy!” Y/N whined, missing the warmth of their pet.

Ignoring her complaint, Syverson manhandled her so she was moved onto his lap.

He raised his eyebrows at her, “You 'bout to try an’ tell me prefer the company of yer dog over yer boyfriend.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to do just that. But then she got a whiff of his scent and was immediately warmed by his furnaced of a body.

Sy grumbled. “Don’t ya forget: dog ain’t able to get rid of them cramps of yours like I can.”

Y/N looked dumbfounded, realizing the hidden meaning of what he was saying.

Sy seemed deeply satisfied with her shocked silence and reached for the television remote. “That’s what I thought…”

A few minutes later, Aika slowly made her way closer to them, gently placing her chin on the top of Sy’s thigh.

––––

Y/N was blasting music and dancing around the kitchen.

Sy had gone out to drink with the boys – a rarity for him.

He always felt guilty about leaving Y/N alone at the house, and even tried to convince her to come along.

“Oh, fuck no!” She had laughed. “I’m not going to be that girl who crashes boys’ night and convinces herself they don’t have a problem with it.”

But that meant having the house to herself and dancing around with her wine.

It was all fun and games...

Until Aika’s hackles were raised and the dog started snarling at the side door, and then the snarling quickly turned into aggressive barking.

Y/N’s heart started racing.

Yes, Aika barked all the time. But it was more of a heads up to her or Sy.

But this was a threatening and protective stance, putting her body between Y/N and the side door.

Y/N knew something was wrong from how Aika was behaving.

Ever so carefully, she tiptoed to the door that Aika was barking at, her heart beating so hard and fast that she had her hand over it as if that would do anything to calm it.

She hoped to find nothing outside the house, that Aika just heard a raccoon or a coyote or something like that.

Why couldn’t she be right about that?

When she peaked through the door’s top window, Y/N was horrified to see the flood lights suddenly flash on.

It wasn’t an animal.

It was a person.

A man – whose silhouette was the only thing Y/N could make out.

And it definitely was not Syverson. This guy was far too short and thin to be her boyfriend. And Aika wouldn’t be losing it over her owner walking around the property.

The figure was walking away from the house, but was setting off censors for the lights around the property to go off.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Y/N muttered and she sprinted around the house suddenly to make sure all the doors on the first floor were locked.

Aika followed her around, turning into a guard dog.

Y/N ran to the kitchen, grabbed the rolling pin, and sprinted upstairs.

She closed the master bedroom behind her, locking the door, and then went into the master bedroom and jumped into the tub.

Aika, who had been on her heels the whole time, placed herself between Y/N and the bathroom door.

Y/N’s fingers were shaking as she pulled her phone from her pocket and went to her recent contacts.

“Miss me already, darlin’?” Sy answered on the third ring.

“Hiiiii,” Y/N said nervously, keeping her voice quiet as if the intruder was already in the house. “Can you…umm…can you come home?”

“What’s wrong?” Sy was no longer playful, but dead serious.

The background noise was no longer there – which meant as soon as she spoke, he knew something was wrong and immediately left the bar to go outside.

“Aika just started barking like crazy and-and-and I looked outside and there’s some guy walking around the farm.”

“Where are you right now?” Sy asked.

Y/N heard metal jiggling, which meant Sy already had his keys in his hand and was getting into his car.

“Umm. I-I’m hiding in the the bathroom,” Y/N mumbled shakily.

“Aika with you?” Sy asked as he started his car.

“Mhmm. She’s right here.”

“Good. I’m on my way home right home. Stay on the phone.”

Y/N didn’t say anything.

“Y/N? Alright? Yer gon’ stay on the phone with me ’til I get there.”

“Right.”

Sy didn’t force her to talk, wanting her to try and listen if the intruder broke into the house. But every few minutes, he’d ask if she was still OK.

Taking a break from being a guard dog, Aika whined and licked Y/N’s face, clearly sensing her distress and trying to comfort her mom. It was like the dog knew Sy was on his way and they’d be safe soon.

It should’ve taken Syverson 25-30 minutes to get home from the bar he was at.

But Y/N heard his pickup skidding to a stop in 15. So, she could only imagine how fast he was driving.

“It’s just me walking in,” Sy warned Y/N on the phone.

Then she heard his hurried, but heavy, steps coming up the stairs.

The next thing she heard was, “Stay in the bathroom, Y/N.”

From the sound of his footsteps, she could tell he was going to the room that had the locker full of guns. She never went in that room. It made her uncomfortable. And it was a reminder that Sy had a different relationship and opinions about guns.

“Sy, what are you doing?” She asked nervously.

“Stay where you are. If I’m not back in 15 minutes, call the cops.”

That’s the last thing she heard him say before he hung up. But then she could follow his footsteps back down the stairs and out the same door that Aika had originally been barking at.

She tried to listen, terrified that she might eventually hear gun shots.

But there was nothing.

Y/N’s heart raced when she heard footsteps coming back into the house just five minutes later.

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Sy called from downstairs before he hurried up the stairs.

Aika whined, hearing her owner, but still standing guard in front of Y/N.

Sy was fiddling with the door into the master bedroom.

And Y/N realized that he was easily unlocking the doors. But she then remembered that there was a key hidden on top of the doorframe on the other side of the master bedroom, and it could open up any of the interior doors.

‘Fuck,’ Y/N thought. ‘Forgot about that…’

Syverson opened the bathroom door to find Y/N still in the bathtub with her left arm curled around her legs that were tucked to her chest and her other hand holding the rolling pin.

Aika barked at him, almost as if she was asking, ‘Where the hell have you been!?’

As soon as Syvseron stepped into the bathroom, Y/N jumped out of the tub and tackled him into a hug.

Sy held her close. “It’s alright, darlin'. You’re alright. I gotcha.”

After a few minutes, Y/N pulled away.

That was when she noticed Sy looking behind her at the rolling pin that she’d left in the bathtub.

“Not a knife?” Sy tried to hide his amusement.

Her face got hot with embarrassment. “Statistically people who use knives to protect themselves are more likely to hurt themselves than their attacker,” Y/N mumbled.

“That so?” But his face was serious, he knew better than to laugh at her when she was scared.

She ignored his question and asked, “What happened? Did you find him?”

Sy sighed. “It was Lawson.”

Y/N immediately recognized the name. It was one of the farm hands. He was a sweet, old man that really shouldn’t be working as much and as hard as he did. But he didn’t like to sit still. So Sy found easy tasks for him to do around the farm.

“Old man realized he forgot his damn phone here, and came lookin’ for it. He doesn’t have my number memorized, so he couldn’t call to give a heads up.”

Y/N now bowed her head in embarrassment, realizing that she panicked for no reason.

“Hey, now. Don’t you go and do that,” Sy warned her, gripping her chin to lift her head.

But Y/N pulled her face away from his touch and buried it in Sy’s chest to hide.

“Now all your friends and workers are going to think I’m a fucking baby…” her words were muffled by his body.

“No, no, no,” he rubbed her back. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

Syverson knew Y/N didn’t always like the feeling of the big open country.

During the day, yeah, it was relaxing and beautiful.

But at night, the quiet and darkness made her uneasy. Y/N was used to light pollution from countless city lights and always hearing people nearby – no matter the time of night.

Anytime Sy left her home alone at night, he could tell Y/N got uneasy. While she would return home at night to see Sy sitting on the porch outside, Y/N would never be found alone outside at night. She wouldn't even take Aika for a walk, instead sending her outside alone and calling her back inside a few minutes later.

“Darlin’, you did exactly what you were supposed to do,” Sy continued telling her. “You call me whenever you’re scared. Alright?”

But Y/N was still embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your boy’s night because I’m such a wuss,” she mumbled.

“Y/N,” Sy’s voice was firm now – or as she called it, his captain voice, “No more apologies. When yer scared, you call me. That’s how it works. Ya hear me?”

Y/N finally let his words sink in and she nodded.

“Lawson felt like shit when I explained that he scared the bejesus outta ya. I’m sure he’ll apologize to you on Monday.”

Y/N let out a big sigh. Finally the adrenaline was leaving her body and Sy's presence was slowly calming her down.

Aika suddenly barked, grabbing their attention.

Sy let out a laugh and bent down to pet the dog. “You did good, girl. Protectin’ your mama. Good girl.”

Aika’s tail wagged even harder from the praise and licked Sy’s face.

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it :)

[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[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…

[dilfgifs]

Sand Castle (2017)

[beyondthefold]

HENRY CAVILL as CAPTAIN SYVERSON Sand Castle (2017) | dir. Fernando Coimbra

[martha-oi]

A teasing "good morning" text?

Yeah that's Sy👆🏻

[henrycavilledits]

HENRY CAVILL as Cpt. Syverson in Sand Castle (2017)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Say It Again

Title: Say It Again

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

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

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

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

Beta: @peyton-warren

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until one afternoon...

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

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

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

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

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

Shameless flirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye, baby,” you say, waving back. 

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

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

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

[changenameno]

Shower Head PART 1

(Complete, link to the second part down below ⬇️ )

Summary: You are at a hotel, alone. Finally to relax some, after weeks of stressful work events. Though how are you supposed to do that, when you can’t even turn the shower on? Enter Syverson…

Pairing: Syverson x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, accidental nakedness, cursing, pet names, size kink, daddy kink, unsafe sex, p in v

Word Count: 2.8 K

A/N: Okay I was in a Sy mood. Pretty much just shameless smut… Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy ;) ❤️✨

 !Syverson is not my creation!

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PART 1

 

You glared at the offending thing, certain it was mocking you at this point. Who would install a shower head up that high? No one could possibly reach and turn the damned thing on?! Because it wasn’t just hanging incredibly close to the ceiling, it was also shaped like a tap, meaning you’d have to actually turn the handle if you wanted to shower.

 

It was the second day of your stay here and up until now you hadn’t noticed the problem with the shower head. But you’d just returned from the sauna, wanting to wash the sweat of your skin. Though the most stupid construction you’d ever seen, was hindering you.

 

The first idea had been, to haul a chair into the bathroom to assist you in reaching the damned thing. The problem with that was that the only chair in the room was placed below the door handle to the adjacent room.

Because apparently you’d chosen the worst hotel there was, as the lock to the other room was broken. So whoever was staying next to yours could easily enter if they wanted to and vice versa. And there was no way in hell you’d shower if the door wasn’t blocked.

 

Bringing you to now, shivering, naked and beyond annoyed, standing in the shower and contemplating what to do next. Sighing, you shook your head, mumbling to yourself, “For Pete’s sake…I hate this.” Though you knew what you had to do.

 

Slightly squatting down, you begged your leg muscles to stay with you and then jumped up as high as you could. Though you missed, fingertips not even grazing the handle. “Damn it!” Growing more agitated you jumped again, again and again. Each time missing your mark.

 

Then on your last jump you finally reached it, ice cold water spraying down on you. Shrieking at the freezing sensation. Unfortunately the floor was wet in an instant and you lost your footing the second you were back on the ground. Making you flail about, sliding to the left, into the shower curtain.

 

Both hands desperately grabbing at the see-through material in a last attempted to stay upright. Though you’d definitely run out of luck, because the curtain wasn’t a very sturdy or thought through construction either.

The material was brittle were it hung from the ceiling, ripping when your full weight bore down on it. Nonetheless your hands grabbed it, because there was nothing else you could hold onto anyway. Half exasperated and shocked you screamed out, “Aaaarggh NOOO…!” Then your body crashed down onto the floor, releasing another shriek, “FUCK… OWW!”

 

Unbeknownst to you, your scream had alarmed the occupant of the adjacent room.

Curtain wrapped around you, nearly strangling you as you tried to sit up. Your shoulder had cushioned most of your fall, throbbing. Before you could free yourself or sit up, there was a second much louder bursting sound. Lying on your back like a useless sushi-roll, the only thing you could do was gape at the arched doorway opening of the bathroom.

 

Seeing wooden splinters flying through the air, then a rough, deep rumble sounded, “You alright? I’ve heard your scream…and ”, before a half-naked, broad shouldered man ducked into the bathroom. Blue eyes flitting over your wrapped up form, at last lading on your face. He swallowed visibly, “Erm, and thought to check on ya.”

 

You wanted the bathroom floor to swallow you whole, preferably right now. Not only was this the most handsome rugged guy you’ve had the pleasure to ever encounter, but he was also strong as f*ck, having broken down the door like nothing.

Now standing over you, only a white towel hiding what lay between those heavily, thick thighs of his.

 

You didn’t know if you died and went to heaven or hell, either way, here you were still lying covered by the curtain and probably looking like a complete moron. Realising you hadn’t moved an inch since he’d entered, you tried sitting up once more, though unsuccessful. Furthering your embarrassment.

 

Thankfully he caught onto your predicament rather quickly, approaching you, repeating his previous question, “You alright down there?” All you managed was a weak nod.

Then he slowly kneeled down, eyes never leaving yours, as one big hand grabbed your shoulder and the other your waist, “On three.” You didn’t even have time to protest as he counted down, on three he swiftly lifted you to your feet as if you were light as a feather.

Gently leaning you against the wall. A whimper escaped your throat, at the sudden proximity. Shower curtain, the only barrier between his hairy chest and your breasts.

He mistook the whimper as something else though, dark brows furrowing concerned, “Where are you hurt, sweetheart?”

 

Finally able to find your voice, you whispered, “ ‘m not hurt.” Surveying you for a moment longer, he nodded, gaze on your lips for a split second, before his blown out pupils landed back on your eyes. Holding your breath, your racing heartbeat and the water splattering continuously onto the floor were the sole sounds your ears picked up on. A smirk pulled his lips upwards, then he moved away. Making you release the breath you were holding.

 

He had entered the shower, standing on his tip toes, growling when the cold water hit his back as he was trying and then succeeding in shutting off the shower. Your eyes raking over the muscles on his back, down to his peachy rump, when he turned, they landed on the considerable bulge upfront. Fuck. He was big. Mouth salivating at the thought of this monster stretching you.

 

A dark chuckle brought your attention back to sparkling blue eyes, “Like whatcha see, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t be serious? Who in their right mind wouldn’t like looking at him? You tried clearing your throat, but in naught, you didn’t know how to reply anyway. This amused him all the more it seemed, as he sauntered back to you. “Need help?”

 

Meekly you asked back, “With what?” That earned you a full on belly laugh from him, before he nodded down at your predicament. Shower curtain still tightly wrapped around your body, making your arms more or less immobile with the way he had you trapped against the wall.

 

You looked down as well and you really shouldn’t have.

The sheer curtain did not only hide absolutely nothing, it actually accentuated your nakedness. Your boobs where squished together and up, nipples so stiff from the freezing water they nearly poked through the fabric. It had you panicked immediately.

It hit you all over again that you were standing here completely naked, before a really handsome, half naked though strange man. Not to forget that you were both definitely aroused.

 

So your mind short-circuited, trying to free your arms by force, you leaned slightly forward, pulling them up. You succeeded in freeing them, though right then the curtain decided to loosen further, falling down, and you lost your balance. Again.

 

With a shocked squeal, you fell forward, against the behemoth in front of you. Strong arms enveloped you, warm hands stabilizing you by your hips. Shivers running up and down your spine, which had nothing to do with the temperature difference of your bodies.

 

You couldn’t fathom a more embarrassing situation to be in and still your traitorous pussy tingled with excitement, as his bulge poked your thigh. You didn’t dare look at his face. In fact you didn’t dare move, breathe or make any noise whatsoever.

Until his fingers suddenly spread out, tips now grazing your ass. Pressing you even more against him, he groaned, “You feel so fucking soft… But sugar there’s no need to jump me like that. Not gonna go anywhere.”

 

Inhaling sharply, you finally felt brave enough to meet his gaze, tilting your head up. What you found was pure, crazed lust written all over his bearded face. “I…you…I don’t normally…,” you stuttered.

 

He smiled gently, “I don’t normally do this either. But don’t feel pressured, sweetheart. Nothin’ has to happen, ya know. ”

That had you raise one of your brows in disbelieve. Such a fine specimen couldn’t possibly be a gentleman as well, right? His actions answered you, before your subconscious could, by reaching for another white towel lying by the sink and covering you with it.

“Thank you,… erm?” You noticed you didn’t even know his name.

 

“Syverson. But call me Sy.” You supplied him with your name as well, when you stepped back a bit, to fully appreciate his broad hairy chest. You wanted to bury your fingers in those fuzzy looking curls, so bad.

 

Not being able to hold back, your hands reached out without your permission and did exactly what your subconscious begged them to do, sinking your fingers into those delicious curls.

The prompt growl that escaped him, made you jump and retract your hands. Sy stopped you, covering your hands with his and holding them against his torso.

 

He stepped forward, cornering you once more as he pressed you back against the wall. You whimpered lightly when the exposed part of your back touched the cool tiles.

Sy took your hands and lifted them up, over your head, holding them there with just one of his. Next thing you felt, were his lips moving against yours. Kissing you hungrily, swallowing the little mewls that wanted to escape you. Slick started to gather between your legs. You separated slowly, but not before he nibbled on your lower lip, biting down and eliciting another moan from you.

 

“You taste just as sweet as you look. Bet you feel even better though, don’t ya think sugar?”

He deliberately waited for your timid nod, only then did he move his free hand to your chin. Stroking his fingertips down your neck, tickling over your skin, over your collarbone, down to the edge of the towel. Then he gingerly pulled at it until it fell down to the floor, exposing you to his greedy, lust filled eyes.

 

His other hand loosened and moved down, then he commanded, “Leave them there.” When he continued to look at you sternly you felt compelled to answer, “Yes.”

 

“Yes, what?”

Blanking and not knowing what he wanted to hear, you murmured the first thing that your mind supplied you with, “Y-Yes daddy.”

 

You saw his Adam’s apple bob and knew you had said the right thing, when he smirked, voice huskier than before, “That’s right, open them legs for daddy.”

 

Whimpering, you did as he asked and he immediately shoved his hand between your thighs, cupping your heat. Sy continued moving his fingers through your sopping folds, carefully pushing into you.

You whined, hand flying down to gab his forearm, when he responded with pulling back, you growled in frustration.

Glaring as he tutted, “Uh uh. Didn’t say you could move ‘em down.”

 

Trying to get him to continue his ministrations you complied and lifted your hand back up.

 

“Such a good girl.”

Then two of his thick fingers plunged in, right to the knuckles, making you moan loudly. You had to fight with yourself to stop your arms from lowering again, instead you squirmed around widely, until his left hand flattened over your belly, hindering further movement.

Sy stretched your walls around his fingers, thumb slowly rubbing over your clit when he started moving them in and out of your cunt. You responded with more and much louder moans. Closing your eyes at the pleasure cursing through your body, you squealed when his lips sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, beard delightfully scratching across your tit. “Pl-Please more…mmh yeah. Feels so good.”

 

You felt him smile into your skin, leaving your breast only to blow cold air over your wet nipple, making it tighten even more, “Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?”

He took his fingers out, leaving your pussy squeezing around nothing and making you feel terribly empty. Sy put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of your juices, humming as he enjoyed the taste of you.

 

When his blown out orbs landed on yours, the sudden urge to see him. Really see him, overcame you, so you whispered, “Wanna see you. Please, daddy?”

 

Your eyes already fixed on your target, you saw his cock jump beneath the towel, “If you think you’re ready, go ahead sugar.”

Biting your lip, you let your fingertips roam over his pecks first, down his belly, to the happy trail leading under the cloth. Opening it and throwing the towel behind him. Sy moaned when his hard cock, slapped against his stomach, bouncing lightly.

 

You had been right he was huge. Thick from the base up to his tip. That had you fleetly wondering if you’d be even able to take that monster of a cock. But you certainly weren’t against trying.

He smugly asked, “Think, you can take me?”

 

Without missing a beat you replied teasingly and maybe a bit too sure of yourself, “Sure. Think you can keep up with me?”

 

Sy harshly grabbed your hips, hissing against your ear, “Jump.”

When you did, he pinned you between his body and the wall. Easily holding you upright with one hand that he’d slipped down to your ass, squeezing your supple flesh. You crossed your legs behind his back, arms around his sturdy neck, ensuring your upright position further.

 

“We shall see, who can’t keep up with who.”

With that, his other hand wrapped around his massive cock, coating it in your juices, before he positioned it against your dripping hole. Sy began pushing you down his fat length. Your insides trying to make room for him, slick smoothed the way, until you sank right onto his balls. You felt stuffed, fingernails digging into his shoulders to ground yourself. Huffing at the unbelievable fullness within. He groaned as well when he couldn’t push any further inside.

 

He couldn’t wait any longer, feeling your tight cavern pulsing around him. He stepped away from the wall, one hand still gripping your ass the other at your waist lifting you up, until just his tip remained inside. Then he let gravity do the work, dropping you back down, making his cock slide all the way back into your weeping pussy. That made you cry out, pulling moan after moan from you, as he continued to ram inside.

 

“Fuck, so tight for daddy’s cock.” You could only mewl in response, tightening around him, as he began thrusting up into your cunt without abandon.

His pace didn’t falter at all, as if you weight nothing he continued to fuck up into you. Each stroke expertly teasing your special spot. Walls clutching his fat cock.

 

Sy felt you quivering against him, so he decided to pick up his pace, to make you come. Wanting to hear more of your sweet, sweet cries of pleasure.

Already at the edge of your impending orgasm, you whimpered, “So, so close…Sy please…” You didn’t even know what you were begging for in that moment, all thoughts having left you the second he’d appeared in the bathroom as your knight in shining ‘white towel’.

“Yeah, gonna come for daddy?”

 

Nearly incoherent you cried out, “Yes! So fuu-… ‘ing deep daddy…”

 

You felt your core tighten, band snapping within. Sy roughly fucked you through your orgasm, as his cock began to pulse, thrusts getting more erratic, then he came, ropes of hot white filling you.

His lips sucked at your collarbone, teeth biting your flesh. He slowed his hips and then stopped his movement.

 

He sighed happily, slowly sipping out, but still holding you up when he captured your lips in another, this time, sweet and gentle kiss. When you pulled back, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle even more than before.

 

You hung rather bonelessly from his body, too fucked out to really hold onto him anymore.

Sy cooed at you, “Aww couldn’t keep up, sugar?”

You frowned, making him chuckle when you swatted his shoulder, “Alright, alright. You did keep up, pretty damn well, if I might say so myself.” Smiling at him as he added, “Fancy a bath, love? I’ve got a tub in my room.”

 

Nodding enthusiastically, he started to march back to his room with you still wrapped up in his arms.

 

 PART 2

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Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 1

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Word Count: 3,502

Warnings: Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A big thanks to @shellyshellshell for encouraging me to write this story!

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

*Syverson POV*

It’s certainly difficult to leave the cool air conditioning of the house to head to work when the weather forecast predicts another scorching Texas summer day where the humidity makes your clothes immediately stick to your skin. It’s nothing I’m not familiar with having grown up in Texas my whole life and then spending two tours in the desert before returning home. You’d think I would move somewhere cold, but the south is all I know. I certainly couldn’t leave Nana and Pawpaw either. After finishing my last tour, I came home and bought an empty house in disrepair and spent the better part of a year ripping it to studs and rebuilding. I was really struggling with returning to civvy life after spending the majority last ten years in the sand pit. Originally, I had just planned to fix up my house so that it was comfortable and hell, livable, until I discovered what I wanted to do outside of the army. Remodeling my house taught me that I really enjoyed working with my hands and building things. I guess you could say taking a broken, outdated home and making it beautiful and functional again really resonated with me on a deeper level. I was lucky to leave the army with only some mild PTSD and nightmares. Hell, I had all of my limbs and was alive which is more that I can say I deserve. Staying busy helped me cope so after working towards getting my contractor’s license, I decided to start my own company, Syverson Contracting. It was still a small operation with only about seven employees including my cousin Alex, but we got by just fine.

After getting ready for the day and sipping on my cup of coffee on the porch with my German Shepard, Aika, I put my boots on and headed to the truck for the first day on a new worksite. Like usual, I called Nana on the way to work to check in. My grandparents lived about fifteen minutes away from me, but I still called to check on them every morning and make sure they’re doing alright. As I drive, Nana starts chattering all about how her friend’s granddaughter is single and I should be looking for a good woman to marry and settle down with. We’ve had this conversation umpteen times before but I can’t seem to get it through my stubborn grandmother’s head that it’s useless. I’ve been burned by too many women in the past as a young and naïve man and I just don’t want to bring someone into all of my problems. Yes, I go to therapy at the VA to help with my PTSD but it still doesn’t stop the sleepless nights and nightmares that immediately send me back to wartime in the desert. As much as I’ve always wanted a partner in life; a beautiful wife to come home to, a couple of kids and the proverbial picket fence, I just don’t see how it could be in the cards for me now. I’m too fucked up. Nana of course would never understand and I certainly don’t want to drag her into it so I just listen to her drone on and on about some chick named Susanne and then tell her that I’ve got to go.

After speaking with my team and giving instructions for the job, I went to Alex’s flatbed truck and we all started unloading the materials. The home we were working on was owned by a young couple expecting their first child. It was a simple job, replacing the flooring throughout the house, building a shed in the backyard for lawnmowers and other garden tools, and repairing some dry rotting siding near the fireplace. The great thing about my team is that I could get them started and didn’t have to micromanage them. After several hours in the walloping sun, we all broke for lunch. After cooling off and reenergizing at the local Wendy’s, we all headed back to the house to continue our work. Since I was used to being in these weather conditions, I decided to head out toward the edge of the woods in the backyard and start building the garden shed. When I went to lift up some of the plywood, I was beyond shocked to find a shaking and filthy little tan dog who appeared to be injured and terrified.

“Shit. Heya buddy, I ain’t gonna hurt you. It’s alright pal. Let me take a look atcha.”

As a true animal lover, I was immediately enraged. Someone had intentionally abused this poor defenseless animal and either abandoned it or it was able to limp off to the woods. The little male pup, couldn’t be older than a year was bleeding from four different wounds on the side of his sand colored body. The second I scooped him up, he was whining and cowering in fear.

“You’re alright little man. I’m gonna take care of ya. Let’s see if we can getcha to a vet.” I call Aika’s vet office and unfortunately there is no answer. Janet must still be taking her lunch break.

I see Alex walking outside to grab some of the flooring to bring inside and yell for him to come here.

“What’s up, Sy?”

“Just found this little guy beat to hell by the woods.”

“Jesus. What kind of bastards do that to an animal?” Alex ponders as he was looking at the injured and sick animal. 

“I’m gonna see if Dr. Robinson’s in. Hopefully I can get the little feller in today but I need you to run the site until I get back.”

“No problem, Sy. Didn’t she just have another kid? I’m not sure if she’ll be there but I know Jessica said something about them hiring a new vet so I’m sure someone will be around.”

The veterinarian’s office was only a fifteen-minute drive from the site so after giving the poor thing some water, I loaded him up and drove there.

On the ride over, he seemed to relax a bit and not shake as bad as he had been and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Oh Austin! How good to see you! Did your Aika have an appointment?”

“Hey Ms. Janet, is Dr. Robinson in? It’s not for Aika. I found this guy by the woods and he’s been hurt something awful.”

“Heavens to Betsy! Poor little angel! Elizabeth is out on maternity leave but we’ve hired a new vet. You'll like her. Let me check with her and see if she can work you in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later, Janet scurries back and directs me to an exam room with the little guy. I guess I could have just dropped him off and went back to work but my heart just couldn’t stand it. Hell, I fought to bring back Aika from Afghanistan because of how quickly I fell in love with her and she’s been the best dog ever. I can’t imagine leaving this little guy to potentially die from his injuries without a friendly face nearby.

*Knock Knock!*

The door opens and my heart stops at the same time. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen enters while carrying a clipboard and a stethoscope. She’s a petite little thing only reaching to my shoulders with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and crystal blue eyes that feel like they see straight to my soul.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Emma Miller. I hear you found this little guy in the woods?”

“Uh, yes ma’am. Hello there, I’m Austin Syverson. Yeah, I uh, I found him and he looks like he’s been abused.”

She smiles brightly and shakes my hand when I introduce myself and the moment I touch her soft skin, I can hardly think straight. Why the hell do I feel so jittery? It’s just a beautiful woman Sy. Get ahold of yourself. I tell her exactly what I found and she quickly starts examining him while speaking to him in a sweet voice.

“Hi sweet boy. You poor thing! I’m so sorry someone has been treating you so horribly. We’re going to take care of you, yes we are. You’re going to be good as new! I’m going to give you some fluids because you’re dehydrated little guy. Once we get some fluids in you, I’ll try giving you some food. How about that little man?”

I can’t help but smile as she baby talks to him while inserting an IV in his tiny arm and starting him on fluids. She examines the wounds more carefully before retrieving a pair of things that look like tweezers.

“If I had to guess, I would say this guy is about 10-12 months old. I suspect these wounds on his side are from a BB gun. Would you mind holding his head? I’m going to give him some pain relief in his IV to help him relax and then try and clean the area and see if I can remove them. We’re a bit short staffed at the moment with Dr. Robinson out and two of our techs calling in sick so I’ll need your help if that’s okay?”

“Fucking BB guns.” I murmur under my breath. Damn some people are just the worst.

“I’m happy to help.” I tell her quickly and take up residence next to the puppy’s head to hold him still.

“Thank you.” She replies quietly while concentrating on rubbing some brown cleaner across each wound.

I can’t help but watch her as she focuses on removing all four bb’s and placing them into a metal bowl. She’s so effortlessly beautiful and incredibly adorable as she works on the dog who seems to be feeling so much better with the medication and fluids that he has received. She sews up each wound quickly and efficiently. The pup seems to be almost as captivated by her as I am. When she’s done, he even attempts to wag his tail for her. Dr. Miller explains that he will need a flea and tick bath before she can dress the wounds because he has several fleas on him and she doesn’t want them getting into the incisions.

“Mr. Syverson, I hate to keep you from your day. Would you want to just come back for him in a little while? I have to do an exam on a yorkie with diabetes but then I’ll bathe him on my break and get his wounds dressed.”

“Sugar?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, pardon?” She responds a bit flustered.

I smirk as I see the blush tinting her cheeks. “The yorkie. Is it named Sugar?”

“Oh! Yes! Someone you know?”

“My grandma’s neighbor, Mrs. Clayton, has a yappy little yorkie named Sugar and I believe I overheard that it has diabetes.”

“Yes, well that would be her.” She smirks back.

“I don’t mind waiting with the little guy. Is it alright if I stay and help you bathe him? Since your short staffed and all?” I ask with my most charming smile.

Her beaming grin tells me all I need to know. “Sure, Mr. Syverson. Can you give me about twenty minutes?”

“Only if you’ll call me Austin or Sy. Mr. Syverson is my pawpaw.” I say with a grin.

“Alright Austin. I’m going to leave you with some wet food on the table for this little fellow, but can I trust you to only give him small amounts slowly? We don’t know when his last meal was so we don’t want to overwhelm his belly.”

“Yes ma’am.” I mock salute at her with two fingers and she giggles when she leaves the exam room. I swear the moment she did I was a goner. I need to find a way to hear that giggle more.

“Well little guy, it looks as though we are helping each other out, huh? You ain’t the only one broken and battered.” I say as I give the dog a small plastic spoonful of wet dog food that he almost swallows hole.

“What should I call you?” I hypothesize aloud while the pup continues eating sloppily from the spoon I’m holding.

“Since Dr. Miller here patched you up, how about Miller? We can call you Mills for short. What do you think about that? I like it.”

Emma finally returns to the exam room and is happy to see that the Mills has eaten the food I gave him and kept it all down. Due to the food, medications, and fluids he received you can already tell a slight difference in his demeanor.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?” She says while carefully picking him up and carrying him to the back of the building before pausing. “You coming, Austin?” She asks.

God, I hope I will be soon. I think before I rush over to open the exam door for her and follow her to the back.

“You know, I’m breaking rules by letting you back here so don’t make me regret it.” She says to me teasingly as she carefully sets Mills into a large stainless-steel sink and begins to bathe him with medicated shampoo.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Dr. Miller.”

“No, if I have to call you Austin, you have to call me Emma. It’s only fair.”

“Well, Emma is a beautiful name so that will be easy. If you don’t mind my asking, where are you from? We haven’t had a new vet in town since Dr. Robinson came and that was probably ten years ago.” I watch as Emma carefully removes three ticks from his fur and want to outwardly cringe. Ticks are the devil’s bug.

“I’m from Alabama. I’ve only been in Texas for about a month but just started working in the office this last week.” She tells me as she very carefully continues to clean Mills.

“What brought you all the way out here? Did your husband get transferred out here or something?”

She side eyes my question with a smirk. “Nope, just the job. No husband or kids. No boyfriend either in case that was your next question.” She remarks sarcastically.

My stomach flips with excitement even though she caught on to what I was really fishing for.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re here. For Mills’ health needs of course.” I add quickly while gesturing to the pup.

“Mills?”

“Yup. Short for Miller, after the doctor who’s taking care of him.”

Her cheeks blush bright red as she runs a flea comb gently through his fur. “Well aren’t you just the charmer. I’m surprised Janet didn’t warn me about you. She’s been clueing me in on pretty much the entire town.”

“Ah, good ole’ Janet. She knows there’s no need to warn you about me. She’s known me since I was in diapers so that should tell you enough about my character if she didn’t warn you off.”

“That’s good to know. So, are you planning on keeping little Mills? Or are you wanting us to adopt him out once he’s all healed?”

“Oh, I plan on keeping him if that’s alright. As long as my girl, Aika, is okay with it I’ll keep him. Can’t imagine sending him off to a stranger after what he’s already been through.”

“Well, if your girlfriend isn’t on board with keeping him just let us know and we can see about arranging a foster for him until he’s able to be put up for adoption.” She says while stepping a little further away from me.

Girlfriend? Oh dumbass, you made her think Aika is your girlfriend.

“Aika’s my German Shepard. I don’t have a wife, kids, or a girlfriend either.” I said poking fun at her sarcastic comment from earlier.

Emma grins but just continues to rinse Mills off. She notices that one of his paws looks a bit swollen but she can’t find any cuts or wounds so she thinks it may just be bruised from trying to run from his abuser.

Once we get him dried off, I hold his head again for her to clean and dress the wounds on his side and I’m dreading leaving.

“So, I’ll need to see little Mills in 3 days to check his wounds and remove the stitches. I need you to clean and redress the wounds one time a day like I’ve shown you. I’ve got his medication and antibiotics here and a couple of cans of that wet food that you fed him earlier. I recommend continuing to feed it to him slowly so that his tummy doesn’t get upset. Nobody likes waking up to a dog throwing up or having diarrhea in the house. If he does okay with that food we can discuss increasing his food intake at the next appointment. Do you have any questions, Austin?”

“Just one. Can I get your number, Emma? You know, in case I have questions about your prodigy, Little Mills, here.” I add with a smirk.

“I’m sure you have the number for the vet’s office.” She smirks.

“That I do, but I’d like yours as well, please.” I ask with my most convincing smile.

“Alright, alright. Just don’t advertise it. The last thing I need is people like Mrs. Clayton calling me after hours.” She concedes with a giggle and I can’t help my boisterous laughter at the last part.

“Nobody wants someone like Mrs. Clayton calling them all the time. That woman would talk to a wall just to hear her own voice.” I hand her my phone and she quickly types her number and I save it under “Mills’ Future Mama” and smirk to myself.

I pay and make the next appointment for Mills and then head to the local pet store for a collar, leash, dog bed, and more dog food. Luckily, Mills sleeps on the ride home and I can’t decide if he’s finally realized I’m not going to hurt him or if he’s still drowsy from the effects of the meds he received. I head home and send Alex an update that I’ll be back at the site tomorrow.

When I get home, I bring everything inside before carrying Mills over to Aika and carefully introducing him. After the initial excitement wears off, Aika heads outside to the backyard and I’m relieved that she seems to accept him. She’s always been such a good dog so hopefully I can rely on her to show our little rookie around and teach him our routines.

I go about showering and eating dinner, but I can’t seem to get my mind off Emma. I obviously want to play it cool but she has infiltrated my mind to the point where I just can’t think of anything else. I know this is a bad idea but I can't stop myself. I decide to take a picture of Mills in his little bed and text it to her.

Sy: <attached image>

Mills’ Future Mama: I’m glad to see my namesake is adjusting to his new life. I take it that his sibling accepts him?

Mills’ Future Mama: Also, you’re lucky I opened that picture text. Typically receiving a picture from an unknown number is never a good thing 😖

Sy: Sounds like your mind is in the gutter or you have some seriously unhinged acquaintances, darlin. Aika has accepted him into the pack without hesitation.

Mills’ Future Mama: More like, men are nasty and will take any opportunity to send an unsolicited dick pic to even the most unwilling recipients. Glad you found the little guy. He seems right at home.

Sy: He is. You should come visit him sometime.

Mills’ Future Mama: Why would I do that when he’ll be in my office in three days?

Sy: Maybe to see his owner?

Mills’ Future Mama: I’d imagine his daddy will be the one bringing him back to my office though?

Sy: Alright then, how about I make you some dinner at my place? Say tomorrow at 5pm?

Mills’ Future Mama: Make it 5:30 and I’ll be there. Just know I’ll be sending your information to my best friend in case you try and murder me.

Sy: What type of people were you surrounded by in Alabama? 🤨

Mills’ Future Mama: I was actually in a super safe town. Just watch too many crime shows to make careless mistakes.

Sy: Smart lady. You can tell whoever you want, darlin’. I’ve got nothing to hide and I appreciate a woman who has some self-preservation skills.

Mills’ Future Mama: Trust me, I’m very skilled at many things. 😜

Sy: Damn woman, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. It’s not fair to tease me.

Mills’ Future Mama: Not teasing. Just stating facts. 🙃

Sy: Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough. Here’s my address. Any food allergies?

Mills’ Future Mama: Nope! I’ll bring dessert. I’m interested to test your cooking prowess.

Sy: You’re killing me.

Mills’ Future Mama: See you tomorrow!

Part 2

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal

[justiceiswater]

I cant even fathom a more perfect date. He just scoops her up, takes her to an activity he knows she loves, supports her and teaches her a new skill, beds her, lets her take a nap, feeds her and then cuddles her!!! chefs kiss. idyllic. 

I love that he is open and vulnerable enough, and apparently smart enough! to not let her anxiety and past relationship trauma ruin everything they’ve built so far. that takes a strong man, and an assured man to make it through that mud puddle. 

Is This Bliss?

Syverson x Fem!Reader

vignette: Y/N thinks her relationship with Sy is going to end up like all the others in her past. After dealing with fuckboi after fuckboi, Y/N realizes she doesn't know what to do when a man might actually care about her.

words: 4,500+

warning: mentions of smut, but no actual smut

a/n: once again, a shoutout to @just-chirpin for letting me pick her brain.

masterlist

Y/N was woken up by someone’s tongue licking her entire face. And with the effort being put into it, she was grateful it was clearly a dog and not a human being.

She pushed whatever it was gently from her face and winced in confusion as she opened her eyes.

Aika was laying on the bed next her, panting happily and wagging her tail.

“What the fuck…” Y/N groaned, trying to put together where she was.

Oh. Right.

She glanced around, realizing that she was in Sy’s bedroom – more specifically, in his bed.

‘Fuck,’ Y/N thought. ‘I had no intention of falling asleep here.’

The old fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand said it was almost 7 o’clock at night. She looked out the nearest window and saw how beautiful the sky looked as the sun almost set. She swore the sunsets in Texas were far more beautiful than those in New York City.

Y/N looked down at herself and realized she was still naked, and only the white sheets of Syverson’s bed were keeping her modest.

As if Aika could sense her distress, she gently licked Y/N’s right shoulder.

This was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to sleepover. She was supposed to book it as soon as the sex was over.

Then again, Syverson had really worn her out – in the best way possible, that is.

By some miracle, he was nowhere to be found.

Maybe he had chores to get to, she thought. And he probably thought she was lazy lump for falling asleep in his bed.

Y/N spotted her jeans laying discarded on the floor and jumped out of bed, suddenly rushing to find all her clothing to put back on.

Aika watched her from the bed with the tilt of her head and whined softly.

As Y/N dressed herself, she went over what happened earlier in the day. Syverson had picked her up from Layla’s house and hadn’t given her much warning. He had texted her before getting there and asked if she was busy. When she said no, he told her to be ready in an hour and to wear clothes for riding.

--

“We going riding?” Y/N practically skipped when they got to Syverson’s farm.

He smirked at how excited she sounded. “You are. But not on the trails like last time.”

She was suddenly confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna learn how to gallop.” He said it confidently, leaving no room for her to turn down the idea or argue.

“Oh, God,” Y/N groaned. “I’m gonna make a fool of myself.”

He chuckled at her reaction. “No, you ain’t. You’re gonna do great.”

And Syverson was quite serious about teaching her. He had a giant round pen on his farm that she hadn’t noticed before. He stood on the edge, giving her instructions.

Meanwhile, Y/N was at on top of Dolly, nervous as hell.

“What if I fall?” Y/N looked down at him and asked.

“You ain't gonna fall.” He pet the horse. “Ain’t that right, Dolly?”

The horse reached her neck out and bumped Sy’s face as if she were giving him a kiss.

Y/N felt like she was taking a proper class for horseback riding. Only her teacher was super hot and distracting, only making her task harder.

They started off with a walk. That was obviously easy. Then they moved on to a trot, which Y/N surprisingly got the hang of rather fast. Next was cantering, which was a bit more of a challenge. It was all easier for her than when she was a kid at summer camp. She had more weight on her bones now, not to mention some muscle and strength.

It took a lot longer to get comfortable with the cantering than she wanted.

But Syverson was so encouraging.

Every time he said something like, “That a girl” or “You got it, darlin’,” Y/N’s heart dropped and she tried not to focus on it too much.

When Syverson finally thought she was ready to up it to galloping, he grabbed his own horse, Skunk, and they left the pen.

“Ain’t enough space for galloping in there,” he explained to Y/N when she asked.

Syverson made Y/N practice trotting and cantering on their way to a spot he wanted to reach.

They finally reached a plain and boy was beautiful.

“Should be flat enough. Ain’t any dangerous divots,” Syverson explained.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Y/N asked nervously.

“Hell yeah,” he smiled back, hoping it would reassure her. “By the end of the today, you’ll be a proper cowgirl.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his support.

“What I want ya to do is start off right by the tree and ride right across from me. That way I can see your form and we can go from there.”

Y/N nodded and directed Dolly where he had pointed to.

Earlier, Syverson said to fight the nerves and fear, that horses could sense it and that was no good. "You need to trust your horse and have them trust you in return," he'd said.

“Come on, Dolly. We can do this,” she muttered to the horse before lightly digging her heels into the horse's sides.

Dolly got the message and slowly moved from a trot, to a canter, and finally…to a gallop.

Y/N tried to remember all the pointers Syverson had given her. But she knew her riding was sloppy...because it felt sloppy. It was like she was going to fall off at any second, no control in sight.

When she reached the end of the path Syverson told her to follow, she slowed Dolly to a stop and looked up to see Syverson trotting up to them.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?” She asked meekly.

“Give yourself some credit, darlin’. This is all still new.”

He gave her a few more pointers.

From today, Y/N finally understood why Syverson would make a good captain in the military.

She had tried to subtly ask Aiden about it one night, understanding that Layla already told her all she knew about the military, specifically Syverson's history with it.

“Captains can be in charge of at least 60 soldiers, and that can go up to around 200,” Aiden had told Y/N. “And you don’t just wait for the promotion, you gotta work your ass off to get it. And it ain’t easy. Gets real competitive.”

“And what exactly did he have to do as a captain?” Y/N had pushed.

Aiden shrugged. “Training. Discipline. Keeping his unit’s morale up. Planning attacks. Executing operations. Preparing for big movements. And he was responsible for keeping track of all that fancy equipment our taxes pay for,” he ended with a chuckle.

Y/N saw Syverson’s commanding presence more than ever today. He was patient but firm with his teachings. And Y/N appreciated it, but she also knew she would never want to be on Sy’s bad side. She could only imagine how many young and naive soldiers had been terrified of him.

“Go on now,” Syverson waved her off.

Y/N laughed as she turned Dolly around to try again.

And this went on for an hour, and eventually Y/N got it down. She knew this wasn’t a one and done situation. But she had come so far. Except horseback riding was not like riding a bike: she’d have to keep practicing and practicing, or all this would go to waste.

But for now, Y/N was going to be proud of herself.

She galloped circles around Syverson with a beaming smile.

And true to character, he tried to hide his own.

“Don’t get cocky now,” he teased.

Y/N just giggled.

“Alright, hot shot, what about a race back to the barn?”

Y/N slowed Dolly to a trot, but continued circling around Sy and Skunk.

“I’m not entirely sure I know the way back,” she admitted.

“Ahh...That’s alright. ‘Cause you’ll be chasing after me the whole way.”

With that, Syverson made a clicking noise to Skunk and dug his heels in. And that’s all the horse needed to know that it was time to go – and to go fast.

Y/N’s jaw dropped and she took too long to recover as she attempted to race after him. But she knew it was useless. Sy was clearly not even trying, but he was still yards ahead of her. He probably didn’t want to lose her or be far away in case anything happened to her.

Obviously they made it back to the farm farm quicker than they left it.

And when Y/N slowed Dolly to a halt, both her and the horse were breathing heavily.

“You’re an asshole,” Y/N pointed to Syverson, who had a cocky smirk on his lips.

“Now, darlin’, I didn’t peg you for a sore loser…”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but laughed as she dismounted.

“Come on. Let’s brush ‘em down,” and Syverson nudged his head in the direction of the barn.

Y/N nodded and followed after Sy and Skunk, pulling Dolly alongside her.

Brushing Dolly and Skunk was probably just as relaxing to Y/N as it was for them.

A relaxed quietness had fallen over the two of them and the horses.

Once they got Dolly and Skunk water and food, Y/N shoved her hands in her jean pockets and toed her shoes in the ground, not really sure where to go from here.

Syverson stood in front of her.

“Thank–” But Y/N stopped herself, remembering her promise from the night of Layla and Aiden’s engagement party.

She smiled and tilted her head to press a slow kiss to Syverson's lips.

“I like those much more than your ‘thank yous,’” he mumbled to her with a spark in his gaze.

But Y/N wasn’t done being bold.

She took an exaggerated step back. “You might be able to beat me in a horse race...but can you win against me on foot?”

And before Sy had a chance to answer, Y/N was sprinting out of the barn and back towards the house.

“Oh, yer playin’ with fire, darlin’!” He called after her.

When he made it to the house, Y/N was hiding. Which was an even easier to do when half his house was covered in canvas or plastic from the construction.

But then he heard Y/N’s giggle and immediately knew it was coming from the doorway of the master bedroom.

Syverson was quiet, but there was no silencing the old creaks of the house.

However, he didn’t believe Y/N was aware of how close he was.

So he whipped around the doorway, making her yelp.

And the next second, he picked her up into his arms.

“Is this your way of playing hard to get?” He rumbled.

Y/N giggled, clearly not mad about being in his arms. “Mayyyybeeeee,” she sang.

To her surprise, he gently plopped her on top of his bed. And it was giant. Like, california king big.

“Do I smell like a barn?” Y/N asked, suddenly self conscious.

She had been snapped out of the moment as she realized how sweaty and gross she'd gotten from all the riding.

Sy smiled down at her. “Darlin’, you don’t smell nothin’ like a barn.”

Y/N giggled.

The sound made him freeze, hovering over her.

“What?” She whispered, self conscious once again.

“Nothin’. I just love that sound.”

Her face felt hot with embarrassment, but there was flattery under there, too.

Feeling bold again, Y/N’s fingers scurried underneath the hem of Sy’s t-shirt, slowly lifting it up. Her eyes flickered to his, silently asking if it this OK. Instead of answering, he just pulled the back of the neck with his right hand and yanked the shirt over his head.

No wonder he had no hesitation: Ethan Syverson had the body of a god. His pecks were huge and his six pack looked like it was made from stones. He was perfectly unshaven, with hair sprinkled on his chest and around his belly button, only to trail down further – almost teasingly.

“But now…” Syverson began, slipping his hand up her waist and going underneath her own t-shirt. “I’m interested in what other sounds you can make, darlin’”

Before Y/N could get nervous and abandon this intimate situation, Syverson locked her in a passionate and prolonged kiss.

But he was just getting started.

––––

Y/N finally managed to find all her pieces of clothing.

She tried listening to house to figure out where Syverson might be lingering. Hopefully, he wasn’t even in the house. Maybe he was doing chores around the farm.

“Aika, where’s your dad?” Y/N whispered.

But the dog didn’t seem to be on her side, just watching her.

By some miracle, Y/N’s phone was still in the back pocket of her jeans and there was 50% battery on it. She’ll sneak outside and then call Layla to come get her.

Not having a car here was really starting to annoy Y/N. But she was too cheap and lazy to lease one for the year. It seemed as if she might have to bite the bullet soon.

Y/N tiptoed down Syverson’s stairs.

Immediately, she heard soft music playing and guessed that it was coming from the kitchen.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Y/N thought.

If he was in there, she’d have to slip right past him to get to the door. And she had 0 faith that she could sneak past a retired captain from special forces.

But when Y/N peaked her head around the corner, there was no one to be found. Maybe luck was on her side.

When she skipped to the door, Aika decided it was the perfect time to start barking. Damn that loyal guard dog. Apparently, she didn’t want the girl to leave quietly.

Y/N thought she was still in the clear when she reached the front porch outside.

Her foot was on the first step down when she heard, “Tryin’ to make a run for it?”

Her entire body froze.

Y/N looked to her left to see that Sy was leaning against the side of the house. He appeared amused by her failed attempt of sneaking out.

“Uhhh…” Y/N really had no clue what the hell to say.

Syverson pushed off the house and walked to her.

Y/N bowed her head, looking only at her feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Why’re you apologizin’?”

“Umm…” Once again, she had no idea how to respond.

“Y/N, I ain’t tryin’ to interrogate you.” Syverson tilted his head and crossed his arms. “So why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” Y/N blurted out.

She didn’t make a habit of being honest and forthcoming with men she just had a fling with.

“Y/N,” Syverson warned, using what she assumed was his military tone.

It made her weak in the knees. Damn him.

“Look," she ran a hand through her hair. "I know how this works. It’s best if I just leave. I’ve quickly learned that no one really wants their one-night stands hanging around.”

His brows furrowed. What the hell was she on about?

“Do you…want to leave?” He asked her seriously.

She shrugged. “I figured that’s what we both wanted…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She sighed and finally lifted her head. “I have trouble sleeping with other people – I mean, like actually sleeping. I’ve never passed out like that before. Sorry.”

“Will you quit saying sorry?” Syverson scolded her. "But I ain’t exactly surprised. I wore you out, darlin’ – in more ways than one.”

This man had the audacity to have a mischievous smirk on his lips.

And Y/N didn’t know if it made her want to smack him or kiss him.

Now Syverson stepped even closer, getting in her space.

“How about I tell you what I was planning on doin’ and then you can decide if you wanna stay? And if you don’t, I’ll drive you home. No questions asked.”

“Umm…o-okay,” she managed to stutter out.

Syverson nodded and continued, “I ain’t one to kick pretty ladies outta my house, especially ones who were just in my bed.” He paused to see her shiver from the subtle compliment. “But my plan was to wake you up, and ask you to stay for dinner. I just pulled some steaks outta the fridge.”

Y/N blinked at how forthcoming he was being.

“So how 'bout it, darlin’?”

Was this some kind of dream? Or a movie?

Y/N had the sad realization that Syverson was treating her more like a human being than all of her past flings combined. Was that her fault or theirs?

“OK,” she finally nodded.

He wanted more than that. “OK?”

“I-I’ll stay,” she agreed. “Can I ask a favor, though?”

Syverson couldn’t help but notice that Y/N only seemed to stumble over her words when she was talking to him. But he wouldn’t let himself linger on that right now.

“‘Course,’ he answered.

“Do you mind if I shower real quick?” She looked him up and down, noting that he had clearly showered and changed into different clothes.

Syverson smirked. “I think that’s a mighty fine idea. How ‘bout you get yourself a shower while I get started on dinner?”

Y/N smiled shyly, but nodded.

Syverson led her to the master bathroom as if she hadn’t been in his bedroom just moments ago.

“Those towels right there are clean,” he pointed. “Use anything ya want in the shower. And I’ll grab you some clean clothes.”

"Thank you."

Syverson raised an eyebrow.

And it took a second for Y/N to realize what she’d said.

But for some reason, something was stopping her from giving him yet another kiss.

Sy wasn’t one to push, so he just gave her a stiff nod and shut the bathroom door behind him.

A big sigh escaped Y/N as she leaned against the bathroom door.

She didn’t turn on the water until she heard Syverson reach the bottom of the stairs.

Y/N quickly showered. And when she moved back to the bedroom, she saw that Syverson had neatly made his bed, and left a t-shirt and shorts neatly folded on top.

“No underwear it is,” Y/N laughed to herself.

For some reason, showering at Syverson’s house was less stressful than sharing a home-cooked meal with him. And Y/N felt shaky as she made her way back down the stairs and moved to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” She asked from the edge of the kitchen.

Syverson turned around and did a double take at her.

Yeah, he had been the one to give her his clothes. But seeing her in them was three times better than how he had imagined them looking in his head.

“Beer or wine?” He asked, completely ignoring her offer to help.

But that was probably for the best.

“Wine,” she answered.

Just as he started reaching for the bottle opener, Y/N shot forward.

“I may be useless in the kitchen, but I know my way around a bottle opener,” she told him and gave him an insistent look.

Syverson and Y/N chatted as he cooked. Eventually, she was able to convince him to let her stir or cut things. He didn’t even seem to mind how slow she was at the latter.

Slowly, Y/N’s anxiety from the situation disappeared. And in its place, she felt a new wave a calm fall over her.

It was something she’d never experienced with a man before, especially right after sleeping with them.

“This is...so nice of you, Sy. You really didn’t need to make me dinner,” Y/N told him gently as she took the first bite.

“Can I ask you a question?” Syverson asked carefully when he took a seat across from her.

He took a sip of his beer, giving her some time to think about it.

“Sure,” she laughed lightly.

Who knew where this was going?

“This really all that new for you?” He asked.

“What? Being wined and dined?” Y/N laughed.

But he didn’t join in, his face was serious as he patently waited for her answer.

“No," she admitted. "Men in New York...they get away with the bare minimum. There’s definitely no southern hospitality in that city – especially for one night stands.”

“One night stand?” Syverson repeated.

Y/N awkwardly clear her throat. “Umm…yeah?”

Damn this man. And damn his ability to make her feel so unsure of situations. She never felt this lack of control with any other man.

“Who said anything ‘bout a one night stand?” Syverson disputed.

Y/N just looked at him, wide eyed and utterly speechless.

Instead of telling her what this was, Syverson changed the subject and moved it to casual, get-to-know-you-more, dinner conversation.

And it seemed to finally relax Y/N a bit.

The talking kept going and going.

Y/N asked him more about his time in the house, his childhood, his family, what he planned on doing with the place, the farm.

The dinner went on for nearly 2 hours, even though they both had eaten their dinner rather quickly. They just continued to fill themselves with more conversation and alcohol than food.

“You need to get back home after this?” Syverson finally asked.

From his tone, he almost sounded disappointed by the idea.

Wasn’t this man sick of her yet?

“Not really,” Y/N shrugged. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, so it’s not like I’ve got work.”

Sy was more intrigued now that she wasn’t completely shutting down the idea of staying with him longer.

“Got plans with Layla?”

“Nope,” Y/N popped the p. “She’s got a date night with Aiden.”

Syverson noticed the hidden disgust in her tone. “And that’s a problem?”

Y/N sighed and let out a light laugh. “I love the crazy idiots. But I don’t know anyone who has louder sex than those two.”

“Oh, helllll…” Syverson groaned.

Aiden was one of his best friends. And Layla was practically a cousin or even a sister to him. He did not want to imagine either of them getting down and dirty.

Y/N laughed at his reaction. “Exactly.”

“So stay the night,” Syverson offered as if it were obvious.

She laughed again, thinking he was joking.

But when he didn’t join in, her laugh slowly came to a stop.

“Aren’t you tired of me?” She didn’t mean to blurt it out. It just happened.

And Y/N shrunk in her seat when Sy’s response seemed…angry?

He leaned towards her from across the dinner table, forearms digging into the wood.

His voice was low and evenly as he slowly asked, “What makes you think anyone would ever get tired of you, darlin’?”

Y/N gaped at his question.

But Syverson didn’t push her to answer the question. Instead, he just let it linger and process in her mind, making her think.

“I’d like to stay…if that’s alright,” she mumbled.

He gave her a small smirk and leaned back in his chair again.

“But I’m cleaning! And that’s that!” Y/N cried out before shooting up for her chair, as if her quick movements would set it in stone and prevent him from trying to help.

He just shook his head and laughed at her.

“Fine. I like the view from here anyway,” Sy muttered as he looked her body up and down.

Y/N was grateful that her back was to him so she couldn’t witness his ogling.

She liked to think she really made up for her lack of cooking skills with her fast and thorough cleaning.

“What now?” Y/N asked him as she leaned against his giant sink and dried her hands.

“How about a movie?” He offered.

She just looked a little surprised.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just…didn’t think you liked movies.”

“I don’t watch them a lot,” he admitted. “But who doesn’t like movies?”

What he really wanted to say was, ‘Yeah, but I know you love ‘em.’ However, he had quickly decided against that.

Y/N shrugged. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Got any recs?” He asked.

Her eyes lit up. “Do I have any recs!?” She mocked. “I’m like a walking movie and TV recommendation. Tell me what you’re in the mood for and I’ll figure one out.”

Sy slowly stood up as she made her way to the living room.

As Y/N passed him, he patted her on the ass.

It was light and playful. And it felt like something a boyfriend would do to his long-term girlfriend, not some girl he’d just slept with.

She feigned exasperation and offense, “Excuse me!”

“You’re excused, darlin’.”

Sy had a giant sectional in his living room that was a little beat up. So Y/N assumed Layla would force him to get rid of it at some point during the renovations. But it was fine for now.

After asking Syverson nearly 20 questions, Y/N started browsing through the TV apps to find the perfect movie.

“I think you’ll like this one,” Y/N explained why she personally liked the film without giving anything away.

Sy was listening, except he also couldn’t help but notice that she was on the complete opposite side of the couch.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He asked just as she was about to press play.

She just looked at him, confused.

He clarified, “What are you doin’ all the way over there?”

“Oh,” she mumbled, eyeing the giant space between them on the couch.

But she didn't elaborate.

“Y/N, am I doin’ something wrong here?”

Her first instinct was to lie. That was her way of controlling the situation: don’t let them know how you’re actually feeling or what you’re really thinking.

But Sy had been nothing but honest and vulnerable today.

Didn’t he deserve the same in return?

“You umm…” she hesitated.

Fuck. Why was this so hard?

“I what?” He pressed.

“You make me extremely nervous,” Y/N finally confessed.

Syverson let himself think that over before following up with, “Did I do something to make you feel that way?”

“No. Well, at least not consciously, I don’t think. You just…make me unsure of myself. And I’m...I'm not used to feeling that way.”

“Well, if you asked my opinion, I’d say it’s ‘bout time someone got you outta that head of yours, darlin'.”

Y/N let out a laugh. Maybe he was right.

“So what’s making you put an ocean between us?”

She sighed. “I hate Netflix and chill.”

He nodded, slowly understanding what she meant by that.

“Come here,” he demanded, patting the spot right next him.

Y/N took in a deep breath before basically crawling to his requested spot.

She sat on her knees, waiting for him to speak.

To her surprise, Syverson cupped her cheek.

“I ain’t got no ulterior motives. Right now, I want to watch a movie with you. If I want to fuck you, I don’t need need a damn movie to make a move. You hear, darlin'?”

Little did Syverson know, his explanation made Y/N want to skip the movie altogether and return to the bedroom.

But she controlled herself and simply nodded.

“Now come here,” he instructed, lifting his arm closest to her.

Y/N may be dazed from his frankness, but she could still comprehend that he was offering to cuddle as they watched the movie.

She did as he asked, snuggling into his broad chest. And he wrapped his arm around her, hugging her even closer.

“Relax,” he mumbled into her ear before kissing the top of her head.

Fuck. Could he feel how tense she was?

The answer was: yes. Yes, he could.

Syverson realized he really must've been making Y/N nervous, because she passed out right before the end of the movie.

Her whole body was probably exhausted. A whole day of horseback riding, then sex, then anxiety. She finally allowed herself a break from the tension.

Now she had no choice but to fall asleep against Syverson.

And the man didn’t mind one bit.

When the end credits started rolling, he turned off the TV and picked her up in his arms.

Y/N slowly woke up when she felt herself being placed in bed again and Sy pulling the covers over her shoulders.

Her eyes peaked open to see him walking quietly around the room as he changed into his pajamas, which was really him just in briefs without a shirt.

And even in her half-conscious state, Y/N wondered to herself, ‘Is this what domestic bliss feels like?’

––––––

Please, please, please tell if if you liked it. And what you liked!

I'm sure some of you are bummed there wasn't actual smut written, especially new readers who don't know that I never write smut. But I promise that's for the best.

[mary-ann84]

Oldie but goodie

@littlefreya @viking-raider @sciapod @shellyshellshell @captainsy-cookiemonster @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @nuggsmum @angryschnauzer @thelastsock @sillyrabbit81

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Henry Cavill works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Forever And A Day - Explicit - Geralt x Black!OFC - Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Events

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Requests

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Reader - You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Challenges

Fifteen Minutes - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC - What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Headcanons

Hobbies

Events

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe - Explicit - Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader - Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse - Explicit - Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader - A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Don’t Kill My Vibe - Explicit - Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader - You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Requests

Happy Birthday, Cupcake - General - Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader - Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Praise You - General - Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader - Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

One-Shots

What Are You Doing, StepBro? - Explicit - Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader - You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Requests

Doing Something Unholy - Explicit - Charles Brandon x Reader - This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Series

Scrapbook (finished) - Side characters include Walter Marshall, Evan Marshall, Syverson, and Gus March-Phillipps

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Series

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

One-Shots

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl - Explicit - Napoleon Solo x Reader - Napoleon wines and dines.

Series

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Treat Me Like A Slut - Explicit - August Walker x Reader - August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Requests

Executive Temptation - Explicit - CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader - You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

One-Shots

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind - Explicit - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Requests

The Paganini Problem - Mature - Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader - Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Series

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Challenges

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - Mature - Syverson x Reader - When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Requests

Shape-Up - Explicit - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Drabbles

My Little Strawberry - Mature - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Events

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Nothing More Than An Animal - Explicit - Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader - After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Gus March-Phillips (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

Henry!Wolvie AKA The Cavillrine (Deadpool & Wolverine)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[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.

[gummydummy19]

Him looking down like that does things to me….

[sillyrabbit81]

Henry Cavill as Captain Syverson Sand Castle (2017) | Dir: Fernando Coimbra

@giftober 2023 | Day 6: Red