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littlefreya · 24 days

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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 I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on.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…

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle

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henrycavilledits · 7 months

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

#hcavilledit #henrycavilledit #filmedit #netflixedit #henry cavill #captain syverson #sand castle #gif #ksusha

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martha-oi · 1 month

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Shower trouble

#captain syverson #sand castle #henry cavill #sy vibes #henry cavill characters #syverson #captain syverson vibes #syverson vibes #big boy sy #sy inspo

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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At First Sight 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Plus!short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You are so drunk. Not just tipsy, you are loaded. The lights glare fuzzily around you as bass thumps in the floor and into your body. As you sway and rock to the music, you barely remember where you, hardly recognise the faces of your own friends.

Rhonda is entwined with a guy, so close they may as well kiss, and Starla is just as shameless with the pretty redhead she pulled from across the floor. As usual, you're the odd one out, but you don't mind. You're having a blast. You're so blitzed, you can't be anything close to lonely.

You throw your arms up as your favourite Beyonce song blares on. Rhonda entangles herself with her boy toy completely, tongues desperately mashing together, and Starla has her arm over the redhead's shoulders as she points to the bar, walking in that direction. As you turn to watch her go, your back collides with another body.

Before you can apologise, two hips curl around your hips. You squirm, unused to touch. Insecure as even the large paws that have accosted you can't make you feel waifish like your gorgeous friends.

"Hey," the grizzly voice undercuts the music, "how ya doin', honeybee?"

You blink, clueless as to what to do. You look at Rhonda but she's consumed by her partner and Starla's still off getting a refill. You touch the man's wrist but quickly recoil. How do you do this?

"Honeybee?" You force your voice put to compete with the music.

"Mmm, yeah, you look sweet," he growls as he squeezes your hips tighter, pulling you back against him, "sorry, not mucha a dancer."

"Oh, um," you look up, trying to see him over your shoulder, "uh, me either."

"Look good to me," he counters as his hot breath seeps into your scalp and he inhales, as if catching your scent, "you smell sweet too, honeybee."

Your body is both alight with flames and stringent with ice. You try to sway but he's planted firmly. You gently touch his hand again, and manage to turn yourself to face him. His grip hovers on your hips.

"Should we start with names?" You smile shyly as you get a look at him. You're nervous as he peers back. You hope he's not disappointed.

"Mm, I like ya just as much from the front," he winks, "name's Sy."

"Sy," you repeat before you give your own name.

He's not bad on the eyes, tall, broad, and bright blue eyes. His beard's a bit thick for your liking but you’re not picky. You can't really be.

"You want another drink?" He offers as his hands run up to your waist and your catch them, squiriming.

"Sure," you accept, hoping to get at least a little space so you can get your head straight.

"Alright, honeybee," he purrs and draws his touch away, only to turn and put his hand on the small of your back, "you like the sweet drinks?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't mind cocktails," you agree, cringing at your own awkwardness.

"You're cute," he says as he urges you through the crowd, "I like that."

You stagger drunkenly but don't fall. You try to play off your little stumble and he slips his hand across your back to grip your waist and pull you closer.

As you near the bar, Starla detaches herself with a fresh drink of her own. She notices Sy and raises her brows before sticking out her tongue. Her other hand is around the redhead's as she tug her back toward the dancefloor.

The man easily bulls his way through the crowd around the bar and signals at the bartender. As she nears, he turns back to you.

"What d'ya want?" He asks.

"Rum and coke is fine," you answer with your default. Usually you just get whatever the others get.

He turns back and issues his order to the bartender. He waits, tapping his fingers on the leather trim until the drinks appear. He pays and says some unheard words to the bartender. He takes the glasses and turns, offering you the dark rum and coke.

Your stomach gurgles as you accept it. You only really get a free drink out of pity. One of Rhonda or Starla's hookups feel like they have to me nice to the 'other one'. More than the anxiety, the unreadiness, it's the alcohol already swishing around in your gut.

He sidles you along the bar to an empty space. He sips from a pint of amber bear, the foam sticking in his beard around his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"You from around here, honeybee?"

"Um, lived here a few years, yeah."

"Whatcha doin' in a place like this?"

You sip, more nervous than thirsty. Ugh, it's strong. He wouldn't order a double.

"We're just about to graduate," you chime brightly, happy to have something to talk about. "Yeah, fourth years over, exams are all done..."

"Smart girl," he remarks, eyes sparkling. “Bet ya can guess I'm a bit past all that.”

He brushes his hand over his beard, a few grays catching the lights as the change hues. He doesn't look that old. And you don't have to do anything more than talk to him. You're not the type to go home with a stranger. Not that you ever had the chance.

“I didn't– well, what do you do?” You ask evasively. You take another gulp.

“Military,” he answers bluntly, “can't say much more than that, ya know. Confidential stuff.”

“Oh,” you can't help your surprise. You feel even more out of your depth. “That's interesting.”

“Nah, sweet thing like you don't care about war stuff. Ugly business,” he dismisses, “how your drink then, honeybee?”

“Um,” you look down. It even smells strong. “It's good. Thank you.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sand castle #drabble #au #the club #series #at first sight

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loganbcrnes · 8 months

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Syverson

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

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

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

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

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

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

August Walker

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

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

Until one day.

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

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

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viking-raider · 10 months

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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.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Syverson #cpt syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x you #syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson smut #syverson fluff #captain syverson x reader #Syverson/You #Syverson/Reader #Sand Castle #Fluff #Angst #Sy's Therapy Barn #Sy's Therapy Barn *Fic*

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sillyrabbit81 · 7 months

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

@giftober 2023 | Day 6: Red

#giftober2023 #henry cavill #henrycavilledit #henry cavill edit #henry cavill gifs #henrycavillgifs #hcavilledit #cavilledit #sand castle #sand castle (2017)#filmedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #movieedit #captain syverson #syverson #sillyrabbit81 gifs #rabbitsgifs syverson

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mrsevans90 · 5 months

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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

#captain syverson fanfiction #captain sy #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #captain syverson #captain syverson fluff #syverson #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #sand castle #henry cavill

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jamneuromain · 4 months

Text

Mean Daddy

Logan Syverson x Reader (You)

Word Count: ~750

Warning: Mean!Sy, established relationship, fingering, spanking, sex toys (dildo), implied multiple orgasms/overstimulation

Summary: Your mean daddy comes home :]

A/N: This fic is purely under @gummydummy19’s influence. Blame her for encouraging my behavior XD

Sy had been gone for ten months for a deployment overseas. He couldn’t tell you where he was being sent to, but he promised he’d call when he’s not on the field, which gave you plenty of wiggle room to tease him over the phone.

Most of the time, you would listen to how he spent his day in the base camp, wrapping yourself in his hoodie so you felt close, as if he was hugging you from the back and murmuring by your ear. Occasionally, when you were feeling particularly naughty, he called you and you put the vibrator between your legs, moaning his name with your phone on speaker.

… and you might have accidentally compared him with the vibe, and claimed that the vibe is better.

Empty threats were thrown all over the place. You giggled and cleaned yourself up with wobbly legs when he growled on the other side of the phone, cursing your menstrual cycle and the fact that he was thousands of miles away, and the dark voice in which he warned you. That you would be spanked so hard that you would not be able to sit for a week after he returned from this tour.

You, of course, did not give a damn and fucked him over the phone every month before your period hit.

And, in return, shortly after his arrival, you were pulled over his knee for him to deliver his promise.

“The pathetic toy is better, huh?” He lands another ruthless spank on your sore ass, holding both of your hands behind your back, spreading your legs wide so that his hand could travel down to your soaked panties and mock you for it, “Which one is better now, sugar? Which one is making your pussy cry like a baby?”

You whine, spreading your legs a little wider to grind your neglected clit on his thigh. But Sy notices the angling of your hips. Tearing the panties from your bottom, he prods two of his thick fingers into your weeping hole, slowly circling your G-spot as you whine again in misery.

“Feels so good, you can barely speak?” Sy pulls his fingers from your tight walls, sucking on them lewdly loud, his chest rumbling in satisfaction, “Hmm, sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

Your juices soak his boxers. It has been months since he laid his finger on you (not to mention his cock). The vibe could only serve as a minimum replacement. You know it. He knows it.

And yet, he still punishes you for making a comparison.

“Sy, baby, I’m sorry, ‘kay? You’re the best.” You sniffle as the sensitivity brings you close to tears. You want, no, need to be fucked right this moment or you will explode, “Sy, please. Please put your thick cock into my pussy or I’d die-”

Your pathetic whines are cut off when he opens your bedside drawer, taking out a just as thick silicone dildo.

Sy lets out a cold hard laugh, “Cute. But I’m not done with you, sugar.” Wetting the silicone tip with your entrance, his only warning is “Relax, darlin’ ”, before pushing the monstrosity deeply seated in your pulsing walls, making you cry out in frustration.

“Fuck!” You moan as he grabs the base of the fake cock and attempts at moving it around.

Making sure the fake cock stays snuggled in your hole, Sy smacks your ass again. After a few rubs that eased the burn on your skin, Sy reaches your bundle of nerves, giving it an experimental squeeze, earning a yelp from your throat.

Jesus Lordy Christ, this man knows your body better than you do.

“Wanna play a game, sugar?” He smiles proudly, flipping your body around, not breaking a sweat at all, and places you on the bed on your back with your knees around his waist.

“No.” You huff, rolling your eyes as loud as possible.

Unless he is pulling out his cock right now, there’s nothing that could attract your attention or your enthusiasm.

Needless to say, the pain on your ass is subduing, allowing you to quickly forget what would happen if you are mouthing off to him.

Sy narrows his eyes. A dark glint rushes past his eyelids.

“Too bad. The game is called ‘How many times can you cum’, and darlin’, you ain’t getting out of this bed until you pass out.”

#captain syverson x you #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #sand castle #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fic

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princessaxoxo · 4 months

Text

Baby, it's cold outside

Boyfriend!Sy x girlfriend!reader

Summary: You spend a chilly night by the fire with Sy.

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (m & f receiving), fingering, if I missed any please let me know.

Word count: 928

The powerful winds that were howling outside due to the blizzard caused the air inside your house to feel chilly and the windows to rattle. Sy and you were snuggled together on the couch, enjoying hot cocoa while watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

This was his favorite guilty pleasure Christmas movie, as the two of you made it a tradition to choose one and watch it each year. Though the movie seemed corny to you, Sy was laughing uncontrollably and infectiously, making you chuckle as well.

“Looky there, will you finally admit you like this film?” Sy asked and began pampering your face and neck with kisses, making you chuckle louder. “Huh, honeysuckle?"

“Absolutely not, sweetums," he hummed at your response. Then he threw you onto the couch, making you yell, and pinned your hands above your head. "Darlin', I'll convince you that the greatest holiday film is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation."

"And precisely how are you going to accomplish that?" you asked, shaking your head. He released your hands and raised his head. With a sly smile, he continued, "Honeysuckle, I could tell you, but actions speak louder than words."

Sy’s whiskers tickled your face while his sultry, smooth lips glided with yours, his tongue gently dominating yours. With attentive moves, he took off your sweater and planted tender little kisses on your shoulder. He grabbed ahold of your breasts, kissing the top of them before reaching behind your back and unclasping your bra. His tongue immediately started to lick around your nipple, switching between both. "Sy." You started to run out of breath.

With a fast motion, his fingers skimmed over the top of your pajama shorts and pulled them off, along with your favorite Christmas panties. After giving your inner thighs a hard smack, Sy moved in and planted a kiss on the tender regions.

Sy let his shirt fall to the ground after slipping it off. Grasping your thighs with his forearms, he pulled you into his face, split your folds, licked tenderly on the clit, and groaned. As you started to grab and ride his face, he started to lick you like a starving man, thrusting his tongue in and out of your cunt.

Gasping out loud, you were taken aback when two fingers suddenly filled you. As he removed his lips from your clit, you whimpered. But when his fingers accelerated inside of you, the sound of your wetness grew more audible. He curled them perfectly, finding the precise area to give you a cry of joy and make your legs and thighs tremble.

He stood unbuckling his pants and undoing his belt, and you watched, mesmerized. Quickly removing both his boxers and pants.

Stroking his cock, Sy said. “Bring that pretty mouth of yours over here, darlin’.” Eagerly, you crawled towards him, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, but don't suck." Parting your lips, you exposed your tongue. And with his cock resting on your tongue, he began to glide up and down while admiring the view of you on your knees for him.

“Honeysuckle–suck.” At his command, you start licking a wet circle around his leaking, bulging tip. “Atta’ girl.” Sy said. He started moving toward the back of your throat. Trying to take in as much of him as possible, you moan along his sturdy length.

Grasping his robust thighs with your hands, you continuously bobbed your head up and down while slurping and moaning on his cock.

Tears began to brim your eyes as you looked up at Sy, “Goddamn darlin’, look at you, so beautiful with my cock down your throat.”

You could feel the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath your hands as his jaw slackened, signaling his impending arrival. Shortly after, you felt his salty liquid spurt into your mouth and down your throat as you swallowed his load.

“Lay back for me, honeysuckle.” He climbed on top of you as you lowered yourself, holding your face in his hands and giving you a passionate kiss. You whimpered as his cock pushed between your creases and then into your cunt with a single thrust.

His thrusts accelerated as you encircled his waist with your legs and lightly scraped his back with your nails. Curving your back off the carpet, you closed your eyes, and Sy said, "Darlin', keep those pretty eyes on me."

When you opened your eyes, the sound of wet skin slapping together, combined with your groans and his grunts, filled the room. You were getting closer to your own climax with every hit of his sac against your flesh.

With your breasts bouncing up and down, Sy reached for your nipple and teased it, bringing you to your orgasm. Sy’s balls tightened at the sight of your orgasmic, stunning face before he filled your cunt with his seed.

You two started trying to get your breath back. A shiver ran throughout your body as his thumb brushed your cheek. Before giving you a kiss, he added, "I'll get us a blanket, honeysuckle."

His ass flexed with every step as he got up from the floor and gathered a blanket, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Upon his return, he draped the blanket over the two of you, brushed your hair back from your face, and caressed your delicate skin, which was illuminated by the fire that had slowly lowered in the living room. "Okay, sweetums, the best holiday film is National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation."

Sy nodded his head, smugly smiling. "Yes, it is, darlin', and don't forget it."

Taglist: @viking-raider @ellethespaceunicorn @chloe92 @juliaorpll78 @identity2212 @kingliam2019 @beck07990 @shellyshellshell

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hibiscuswrites · 2 months

Note

Hello! I read your headcanon about Captain Syverson (my favorite captain) being nervous on his first date - that was so adorable!

Would you mind doing another one of how he possibly struggles to muster the courage to ask the girl who makes him that nervous out on a first date?

I'm so happy you liked it 🥰 Thank you for reading

He's shakin' in his boots

He's rusty

Hasn't been out on a date in a while

Much less asked a girl out on one

He's been out in the field so long

Seeing such terrible things day in and day out

Even when he's home on R&R, it's like he's always waiting on the other foot to drop

And if he's not on edge, he's flat-out bored

He's always used to being in control for the most part

Control of situations

Control of his emotions

But when he meets you, that changes

You're so sweet and wonderful

You make him remember a time before his life was all violence and war

When he was younger and more free

It starts as a bit of a crush that he thinks he's got a handle on

But soon he wants to spend every waking second with you

And suddenly he's ok with having a few weeks before he gets sent back out on a deployment

Because he wants to spend them with you, as much as you'll have him

He enjoys being a friend to you, and he sure hopes he's not misreading the room

But he wants more, and he feels confident that you do too

The way your smile takes up half your face when you see him

How he swears your eyes twinkle when he calls you Darlin'

How his skin tingles when you rest your hand on his forearm to get his attention

He's got it for you bad and it's almost laughable how much he has to psych himself up to ask you out

If only the boys could see him

Practicing it out loud to hear what sounds better

Trying to determine if he should be more playful or direct and honest

He's had an easier time reaching for a live grenade and hurling it back at the enemy than he does getting those words out

"You think maybe you'd wanna...get dinner with me one of these days? Go out and get a nice steak, maybe some wine? I'd love to take you out, if you'd have me."

And his heart is in his throat while he waits for your response

But the butterflies cover up the palpitations when you nod, head tilted to the side cuter than ever as you gaze at him

"I think I will."

Captain Sy taglist

@sesamepancakes

General taglist

@titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak

#headcannons #sand castle #Captain Syverson #Captain syverson x reader #henry cavill

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zacksnydered · 11 months

Photo

HENRY CAVILL as CPT. SYVERSON Sand Castle (2017) | Dir. Fernando Coimbra

#henry cavill #cpt. syverson #sand castle #netflixedit #filmtvedit #filmsourceedit #cineampix #henrycavilledit #hcavilledit #cavilledit #sandcastleedit #mine.#edit: gifs.#film: sandcastle.

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beyondthefold · 1 year

Text

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

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martha-oi · 3 months

Text

#captain syverson #sand castle #henry cavill #sy vibes #henry cavill characters #syverson #captain syverson vibes #syverson vibes #big boy sy #my hubby #sy inspo

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

At First Sight 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Plus!short!reader) Please mind the warnings.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You struggle to focus on what Sy’s saying. The alcohol makes him appear double, a scary idea for a man his size. You’re overly aware of his hand on your hip as he stands close, his pint guzzled down to foam as you awkwardly hold a glass of melting ice.

Your eyebrows rise higher as you try to decipher his rambling. It almost hurts. You fix your face and shake your head. You sway and catch yourself, covering your mouth as a burp threatens to surface.

“Uh,” you murmur, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Your words are thick and fractured. You don’t think you’ve ever been this drunk. He slowly rescinds his arm and takes the glass from your hand.

“You done?”

You nod and hiccup, giving a small wave as you wobble past him, “I’ll be back.”

It’s strange. You don’t think you’re going to vomit. You’re just completely out of it. The lights swirl and the music sounds distant. Your body feels distant from your mind and your thoughts are so loud you’re afraid you might be saying them out loud.

You find your way down the back hall towards the restroom. You push inside and jump back as another woman exits. You let her through before you enter. You clamber into a stall, swinging the door with a bit too much force. You let out a belch as you unbutton your jeans.

You sit and break the seal. Your thighs tingle at the release of pressure. God, that feels good. You didn’t realise how much your were holding in.

You tilt your head up and nearly lean back completely, catching yourself before your eyes can roll into your skull. Fuck, you’re drunk. So drunk. You could pass out right there.

You should try to find Rhonda and Starla, maybe call a cab. You blow out a lungful and stand. You put a hand out to keep yourself steady as you button your fly with one hand. You slide back the latch and stumble out towards the sink.

The music swells through the walls and you hum along as you turn on the sink. You watch your hands lather up and rinse away the bubbles. You shake them off and lift your head, looking at yourself in the mirror.

You nearly scream as you find someone behind you. You hadn’t heard him. Your eyes skitter around and you realise, you haven’t heard anyone else either.

“There you are, honeybee,” Sy snarls as he steps closer, crowding you against the sink until your stomach touches the wet porcelain.

“What are you doing in here?” You squeal as you push back against him.

“Lookin’ for you,” he snarls as he presses his front to your back, “thought maybe you were gonna sneak off on me.”

“No, uh, just…” your voice trails off as panic breaks through the drunken sheen. “We should go…”

“Where ya goin’?” He keeps you penned in as he bends to sniff your hair, “you smell as sweet as you look, you know that?”

“Thanks, but, er… we shouldn’t be in here…”

“Hush, honeybee, you fretting for nothing,” he snarls and loops his arm around you, tilting his pelvis into you, “you probably feel sweet too, huh?”

“Um, alright, uh, Sy, I appreciate the–” you hiccup and try to shake it off, “the attention but it’s late and I’m very drunk.”

“Just the way I like em,” he growls and gropes your chest, “beer-braised and thick.”

“Hey,” you grab his hand as you yelp, “please, don’t– I don’t want that.”

“Honeybee, you been sending me heart eyes all night, you don’t know what you want.”

He flicks your hand away from his, nuzzling your hair as he continues to fondle you. You pull at his large hand but he easily ignores you. You keep a hand on the sink as you try to push free of him.

“Stop!” You shout as loud as you can but the music easily smothers it. “I said stop!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he snickers as his hand glides down to the top of your jeans, “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

“Please, I’m scared,” you beg as you clutch his wrist, his thick fingertips trying to delve under the denim.

“Why? I told you. I’m gonna be nice, honeybee, take it easy,” he purrs, “you relax and let me take care of ya.”

“I want to go,” you plead.

“Shhh,” his hush tickles your scalp, “you’re alright. I’ma give you what you need.” His other hand slaps your ass so hard your stomach collides with the sink, “exactly what you came here for.”

You whimper, your eyes burning as tears glaze in your bleary vision. You’re too drunk to resist him. You’re stupid. You never get this bad. Why tonight?

He brings his arm back and grips your shoulder, urging you forward. “Bend over,” he growls as he shoves you over the sink, “mmm, I like this.”

He bends his knees and grinds his pelvis against your ass, “I think you’ll like it too.”

He reaches around you and fumbles with your fly. You’re frozen in shock. You can’t believe this is happening. Your legs shake and your stomach churns. You rest your head against the top of the cold metal faucet and shutter, jolting as he rips your jeans past your ass.

Your naked flesh stings in cool air and he slaps your cheeks roughly. You yipe and grasp the sides of the sink. You look at the door, not that far but far enough. He kicks your feet apart as his knuckles brush you. He spreads a hand across your back and pushes you even lower.

He rubs his tip along your bare ass and you lift your head, looking at him in the mirror, eyes round and streaming.

“Please,” you try one last time to get through to him, “I’ve never… I’ve done this before.”

He smirks and fists the back of your shirt, “good.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #au #the club #series #sand castle #at first sight

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