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—
Warnings: this fic contains stalking and violence. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is the next June fic! (It’s late. Sorry)
Syverson + “I gave you a chance to play nice.”
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
“Please. I have a video. Several.” You beg the officer as his interest clings to his phone. “I kept a notebook. Tracked everything. Just like you said.”
“I said?” Officer Garret frowns as his phone makes chinging noises as he makes a combo move in whatever mobile game he’s addicted to.
“Well… the last officer. That what he said to do. Make notes, take pictures. I did it all. The marks on my door, the letters left at my door, the gifts–”
“So you’re reporting a secret admirer?” He scoffs.
“I’m reporting… I’m terrified. This man won’t leave me alone. I have video of him looking in my window! He climbed the fire escape and–” You sigh and throw up your hands, clapping them back down on the notebook full of time-stamped notes. “I just want to be left alone. He’s been calling me, texting me. All these weird things. Pictures of me on the bus and at work.”
“Right.” He puts his phone down and crosses his arms, “how would I prove these are aggravated? That this isn’t some friend pulling a smart one trying to scare you?”
“It’s been over a year, please. I’ve filed six reports. You told me– They told me this was the right way.” You beg. “You have to help me.”
He stares at you. He takes a deep breath and rolls his chair closer to his desk. He sits up and sniffs.
“Sure, a seventh report.” He clicks his mouse with a roll of his eyes. “The eight will be obstruction charges.”
You blink, stunned. All you’ve done is what you’re told. Don’t wear ear buds, stay aware, lock your doors, don’t take the same route every day, keep a record…
“Forget it.” You hiss and stand up, gathering your notebook and purse.
You turn and stomp out at the officer chuckles. You hurry out, face on fire, chest fuming, hands shaking. As you come outside, you rub your temples and sigh. Your heart races as helplessness tingles through your body.
What do you do? What can you do? You tried and done everything! You just want whoever it is to leave you alone.
It’s not like you have friends. That you draw attention. You do everything not to. You’ve never been a fan of it. You go to work, clock in, hide in your cubicle, and mind your business. Then you go home, making yourself as small as you can on your commute, and lock yourself in your tiny apartment. You pay everything on time and rarely venture out of your space. Especially since this all began.
You look around warily. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. People pass you by without notice. Whoever is watching you, is subtle. Clever.
You turn down the road and head to a different bus route than the one you took there. That’s one of your tricks, not that any of them work. You wait a couple minutes before the bus comes and step on.
As everyone else buries their noses in books or screens, you’re alert. You sit in one of the side seats so your back is to the windows. There’s no one that stands out to you. You listen to the sniffles, the coughs, and the conversations. You get off two stops early and walk the rest of the way.
You approach your building with key in hand. You can feel the vibration of your phone in your purse. They’ve grown more steady the closer you get to home. You grip your key, ready to jab at anyone who might sneak up.
You check over your shoulders as you unlock the door. You go inside and close it until you hear the latch slide back into place. You take the stairs. You check behind you over and over and over. Until you’re dizzy.
You reach your apartment door and unlock the three locks on it. Your landlord won’t be impressed at the additional hardware. You lock each from the inside and double check the handle. You walk through the apartment, turning on every light; not that there’s more than the walk-through kitchen, the living room, bedroom, and bathroom. You even check the singular closet.
Alone, not safe. You put down your notebook and pull your bag into your lap as you sit on the sagging couch. You open your phone. There’s messages from six different numbers, on Instagram, through email. You can’t do it anymore. You can’t.
You put the phone down and push your bag off your lap. You stand and grip your head. You pace until you can catch your breath.
You go into the kitchen. You need water. You reach for the cupboard and stop. What the hell?
The knob is reattached. You’ve been struggling for weeks with the thing. Your landlord has ignored all your maintenance requests. So you leave it open or claw at the edge until it pops open. But now, the knob is back in place. Somehow.
You grab it and try to wiggle it. It’s screwed in tight. You open the cupboard. You can see the screw is new and the way they were able to fill in the wood to hold it. Maybe your landlord did it but you never received notice…
No. You really don’t think it was your no-good overlord.
You cover your face in exasperation. What can you do? You’re out of options. The police don’t help. You don’t have friends. Your family is only that by technicality.
You drop your arms and scurry around the wall to the front room. You grab your phone; block number, block, block, block. You tap app icons and go through the tedious steps; Account Settings; Delete Account; Are you sure? This is an irreversible action. Yes, yes, yes.
You don’t exist anymore. You’re nothing. You’re no one! Leave me alone!
You slam your phone down and huff. You just want it to stop. You need it to stop. Whoever it is just needs to go away. Why won’t they just get the message? You don’t want them.
💜
You haven’t slept in your bed in months. You’re never tired enough, calm enough to settle down. You stay on the couch and watch TV in a daze. To the detriment of your back as you feel the metal frame of the couch through the worn down cushions
Your head pounds and you close your eyes. You lean back and let your body slacken. The tension never truly goes. You listen to the conversation of fictional characters with more interesting lives than yours. Safer too.
Your mind swims as the room turns to static around you. Your skin prickles and your ears ring lowly as fatigue washes over you. You need to move. You need to get away from this place. From them.
Your eyes snap open as you sense a shift. The TV’s still on but the lights aren’t. You don’t turn them off when you’re home. Never.
The metal frame of the couch creaks. Your mouth opens, ready to scream, as a hand strokes your arm. Before your horror can erupt, a finger presses to your lips.
The figure hushes you. “It’s okay. It’s just me, honey.”
Your heart lurches and your stomach knots. You’re nauseous as the deep voice infests your ears. You shake as this thick finger traces your lips. The man hums.
“I was scared. You disappeared.” He drawls as he continues to pet your arm. “Right after you were with them police… I thought… something happened.”
You shudder and heave in a shaky breath. You turn to look at the shadow turned real. The man is big. Much bigger than you. Burly. HIs blue eyes twinkle softly in an otherwise coarse face. His head is shaved, brows and beard thick, nose as rugged as his square jaw. You quiver.
“Who… who are you?”
He smiles and cradles your chin. “What? You know me. Honey, I know you get my letters. My messages. My calls.”
Your eyes sting with fear as you lean away from him. He catches you around the throat and tuts.
“You’re not running away from me, are you? That’s not why you were talking to Officer Garret.” He growls.
You blink. “How–”
“How can I keep you safe if you hide?” He snips over you.
Your lashes flutter and you grab his wrist. With both hands as you realise how thick it is. You try to push him off. “Let me go.”
“Honey, calm down. I’m just checking on you. Making sure you’re okay. You scared me.”
You stare at this stranger, this spectre who’s haunted you for so long. You shake your head.
“You. Scare. Me.” You whisper.
He frowns and his hand shakes. Then he lets you go and rubs his palms together. He slumps but it does little to lessen his size.
“No, I don’t want that. I just want…” He looks at you again and reaches for you. “I just want to take care of you.”
He touches your cheek again. He turns his hand and brushes his knuckles along your skin. A surge of frustration and fear swells in your veins. You turn your head and sink your teeth into his thumb.
He grunts and recoils. You let go as his other arm swings out. He backhands you off the couch with a crack that has your ears humming. You land on the hardwood with an oomph. You roll over and crawl away from him.
“Stop! Please! Leave me alone!” You cry out. You suck in air as you push yourself higher on your hands and knees. “Someone! Anyone! Help–”
He steps over you and smothers your shouts with his large hand. He hooks his other arm around you and scoops you off the floor easily. You thrash and claw at him as your voice evaporates behind his roughened palm.
You bow your head forward and throw it back. You feel and hear the impact. He snarls and shakes you, barreling ahead to crush you against the wall. He knocks the breath from you. He pulls his arm from around your middle and grips the back of your skull. He pins you to the wall by your head. He sniffs wetly and snorts.
“I gave you a chance to play nice.” He growls. “I didn’t want it to be this way.”
Summary: First he saved your life. Then he refused to leave. And there is the problem of the history between you. Nothing between you is simple anymore.
Word count: less than 4.2 K
Pairing: Firefighter! Bucky Barnes x Principal! Reader
A/N: Y'all know I need another AU like a hole in my head. So of course here it is! 🙃 This was inspired by an abandoned AU from last year and then this ask from a few weeks ago. I can't get him out of my mind. So here goes. Bucky is a firefighter and a burn survivor. This first part is a little brutal y'all, but tell me how you feel by reblogging, commenting, sending asks, dm'ing and the like. Interaction is life.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. This fic/au deals with fires, burns, burn survivors and recovery. There are graphic descriptions of burns and pain. Bucky and Reader are burn survivors. Past greivances, slow burn romance, house fire, fire rescue, hospital recovery, a lil bit of language, mutual pining, Grumpy Bucky, Steve, Ari, and Syverson are also firefighters (warning!) Bucky is also a trained paramedic, protective Bucky, hurt/comfort, a teeny tiny bit of praise kink if you squint (it's me, guys). Bucky takes care of you.
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--------------
Bucky held your gorgeous body in his arms, every luscious curve of you molding against him as if you’d been made to fit there.
His gloved hands gripped your thighs, your hips, and the bare skin where your lingerie had shifted and melted away under the heat. For one breathless instant, he knew he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
It was so goddamn hot.
Literally.
This house was old, and probably optimal fuel for the fire that had started within it. You were unconscious and dead weight, but Bucky could more than handle you and he had to get you out of there.
As he approached the door, Bucky heard a crash which he hoped was created by his crew going through the roof to get to the fire. When you heard it, you started coughing and moaning and struggling against him.
“Easy. Easy now. You have to stay calm. I got you. Gonna get you out of here.”
You opened your eyes, lifting your head from his shoulder but all you saw was haze, and a giant form that had you in his grip. The voice that came out of it was distorted, sort of like Darth Vader. You dropped your head back down and decided that you were dreaming.
“Never gonna drink a whole bottle of wine by m’self again. ‘M a lightweight.”
Bucky’s heart clenched. He’d heard a lot of things in burning buildings, but that was a first.
You twisted in his hold, one hand fumbling for a pillow that wasn’t there. And then, realization dawned and your body went rigid. You started thrashing. Hard.
“Stop, hey!”
He grunted, tightening his grip as you fought him. You weren’t too heavy, he could carry you all day if he had to, but you were panicked, limbs flailing, feet kicking against the door he’d been about to open.
A white-hot jolt of fear surged through him as your leg scraped the door’s edge and blistered instantly.
“Fuck! Hold still,” he ordered, voice dropping low. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”
You bit your lip with tears in your eyes. It was time to woman up.
Bucky felt something sharp lodge in his chest. You were terrified, but you were still fighting.
“We’re going through the window,” he said, already shifting you higher against his chest.
“My guys have the lifenet ready. We’re gonna be fine.”
Your wide wet eyes met his, and even through the mask, he felt the way it hit him, something hot and protective and completely unprofessional.
A groan of splintering wood cracked above you and you flinched, burying your face in his chest. He looked up, saw a fissure spidering across the ceiling, and knew there was no more time.
He ducked his head to look you in the eye.
“We gotta go. Now. Both arms around my neck.”
Your arms obeyed on instinct, looping tight behind his helmet. His grip flexed on your thighs as he stepped to the window, shoulder braced against the glass, testing.
He backed up and tightened his hold, telegraphing what was about to happen. Terror filled you.
“Open the window!”
You thought he’d forgotten that important detail as he responded.
“The air will just feed the fire.” He backed up a step, his stance widening, every muscle bracing.
“We’re going through.”
You gasped and then coughed with a lungful of smoke.
“Just hold on. A few scratches are better than the alternative.”
You clung to him, nodding, trying not to sob. “‘Kay.”
“I’m gonna count to three.”
His gloved hand rose with his axe poised over his shoulder. You pressed your face to his chest.
“One,” he said, rocking forward.
“Two,” he shot forward, and you closed your eyes as he swung the axe.
You two jettisoned through the window as the glass shattered. There was a leap out into cool air, but also the slight vacuum tug of heat following you.
For a moment, flight, then a free fall. You screamed as your stomach dropped, and howled as you landed on the net, the canvas scraping your burned leg raw and glass raining down all over you.
“Three.”
It was the last thing you heard before you blacked out from the pain.
—-
When you woke, it was to the steady beep of monitors and the low murmur of voices you knew, your parents, your best friend, and one you didn’t.
You turned your head, blinking slowly, and found him sitting there in the visitor chair, still in his turnout pants and a navy t-shirt that clung to broad shoulders and the defined planes of his chest, his face streaked with soot. You noticed the metal hand on his thigh and your eyes traced the prosthetic up to his elbow, his bicep, and his shoulder.
His blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver through your bruised, exhausted body.
They were a little too familiar, like you’d seen them somewhere before.
Your voice scraped out, hoarse and raw.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “For coming in after me.”
He exhaled, something easing in his shoulders.
“Anytime,” he said quietly.
For a moment, neither of you looked away. You knew him, but you were too exhausted to chase it down. There were more immediate things, like the ache in your throat, the exhaustion clawing at your bones, and the simple fact that you were alive.
Hours later, the room had emptied, your parents slipping into the hall to talk to the doctor as your best friend Amyra dozed in a chair. You were almost asleep again yourself when you heard it, your father’s low voice, warm but edged with fatigue, right outside the door.
“Yeah. Lieutenant Barnes just went in. He’ll be out in a sec.”
Lieutenant Barnes.
That old, unshakable teacher’s instinct, cataloguing every name and every face, flickered awake in the haze of your mind.
James Barnes.
You knew that name. Not from the firehouse. Not from any training.
From the district memos.
The reports you’d read a couple of years ago, when you were still at Jefferson High. The ones about a lieutenant who’d flagged repeated safety violations, who’d stood in front of your principal, your mentor, Lloyd Hansen, with a spine of steel and told him he was risking lives.
Lloyd, who’d called that firefighter a nuisance. And who’d been demoted when it turned out the firefighter had been right.
Your heart gave a slow, stunned thump, and the monitor betrayed you, spiking with your recognition.
That was why he looked familiar. That was why you’d trusted him in that burning house. Even half-conscious, even terrified.
Before you could think better of it, you cleared your throat.
“Lieutenant Barnes?” you rasped.
He turned from where he’d been watching the monitor, his gaze catching yours. Even out of uniform, just dark work pants and a grey t-shirt stretched over muscle and scar and metal, and he looked every inch the man you now remembered.
The man who didn’t back down, no matter who he was up against.
“Yeah?” he said, stepping to your bedside, voice low, handsome face soft. “You need something?”
Your voice shook.
“I… I think we’ve met before,” you said carefully. “Jefferson High. You were the one who…”
You trailed off, too tired to finish, but you knew he’d understand. And he did. Recognition sparked behind his eyes, something like surprise, and maybe even regret.
“Yeah,” he murmured after a minute. “I remember.”
Neither of you spoke, just looked at each other, the air between you heavy with everything that happened back then, and everything you’d barely survived tonight.
He sideyed the monitor, which told him that your heart was hammering. You didn’t have the energy to fully analyze the reason why.
Finally, you shifted.
“I guess you’ve been saving my life longer than I realized,” you whispered.
Something flickered in his expressions.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Guess so.”
And in that strange, quiet moment, you knew nothing between you was ever going to be simple.
—--
The next few days passed in a blur of pain and bright fluorescent lights. Every morning, someone came to change your bandages. It was excruciating, worse than the burn itself some days, and you clamped your jaw shut so you wouldn’t make a sound.
The burn specialist explained it over and over:
The burn needed to be thoroughly cleaned daily
The risk of infection was high.
Pain management wasn’t optional.
But you tried to prove you were stronger than this. You refused the stronger pain meds the first day, and the nurse just looked at you like she’d seen it a hundred times, like she’d watched other stubborn fools learn this lesson the hard way.
Bucky visited that night, unannounced and uninvited.
He stood just inside the door for a moment, watching you like he was taking inventory of everything you were trying so hard to hide. Then he crossed to the chair by your bed and sat, his hands braced on his knees, his broad shoulders tense.
“You don’t get points for suffering.”
“I’m fine,” you lied.
His gaze locked onto yours, blue and unflinching.
“Then why are you shaking?”
You hadn’t even realized you were until he said it.
The next morning, when the nurse offered you a dose before the dressing change, you didn’t argue. You swallowed the pills and stared at the ceiling until the pain blurred into something you could survive.
—---
The first time Bucky stepped into your hospital room, you were half-asleep, your face turned to the window. You looked so small in that bed, swallowed up by stiff white sheets, and an IV running slowly into your arm.
He’d seen hundreds of burn patients over the years. Kids, grandparents, families with nowhere else to go.
He’d told himself you weren’t different, that you were just another call. Another save.
But standing there, watching you pretend you weren’t in pain, he knew he was lying.
—---
Three days in, Bucky watched you grit your teeth through rehab.
Your parents hovered by the door, but you kept waving them away, insisting you were fine. Amyra cried once, quietly, and you looked mortified.
Eventually, they left.
They trusted him. God help him, he almost wished they didn’t.
He was the one who stayed when you shuffled to the parallel bars, every step a fresh agony you refused to admit.
He knew you were proud, knew you’d rather collapse than ask for help. But he also knew what it felt like to push so hard you tore yourself up inside.
When your knee buckled, he moved instinctively, one step forward, ready to catch you if you fell. But you didn’t. You caught yourself, your breath coming in fast, ragged pulls.
“Are you trying to prove something?” he asked, voice quiet and close.
You didn’t look at him. When you finally spoke, your voice cracked around the words.
“Maybe I am.”
He stayed behind you, silent and steady, even though his hands itched to touch you, to ease something he had no right to claim.
Then he watched you take another step.
And another.
And he knew. You were going to survive this.
But you’d rather bleed in private than let anyone see you weak.
—-
That night, when he stopped by after shift, Bucky saw the pill bottle on the tray. The edge had gone out of you, your face soft in sleep, one hand resting over your heart.
And even though it was selfish, and probably wrong, a small part of him felt relief. You’d finally started to heal.
He should have left; he’d already crossed too many lines.
Instead, he sat in the chair by your bed and let himself watch you.
When your eyes blinked open and drifted down to the glint of metal where his sleeve had ridden up, he didn’t move to cover it.
Your voice was soft, thick with exhaustion.
“Does it…does it hurt?”
He hadn’t told anyone in a long time about the fire that took his arm. It had been easier to let people think he was born hard.
Easier to be the man who never flinched.
But looking at you now, he knew he wouldn’t lie.
He swallowed. Sometimes it did hurt; phantom pain was a bitch no one prepared you for.
“Not like it used to,” he said quietly.
Your gaze stayed there, on his metal skin.
“Was it…fire?”
He nodded once, “Yeah.”
You didn’t ask more questions.But you didn’t look away, either.
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“They tried a lot of shit to fix it,” he murmured.
“First graft failed. Infection. Then this…experimental tech.”
“Really?” you whispered.
“Yeah, in Wakanda.”
He let out a breath.
“Figured if anyone could build something that felt real, it’d be them. They are good people.”
You were quiet for a long time. Then your fingers moved, just a little, toward where his forearm rested on the side of your bed.
He didn’t pull back. But he couldn’t breathe.
When you finally drifted off again, he stayed there, your touch warm on metal that usually felt like nothing at all.
—--
It was over a week before they’d even consider letting you leave.
Eight days of doctors, dressing changes, antibiotics, and endless check-ins that woke you every time you drifted into something like real sleep.
Eight days of Bucky showing up at your door, sometimes in uniform, sometimes in jeans and a plain t-shirt, but always carrying something you hadn’t asked for.
Like food, or flowers.
Not from him, of course.
From the crew, he’d say, every time, like he thought you couldn’t tell he wasn’t telling the truth.
He never stayed long.
But he always came.
On the morning of your discharge you were sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, trying not to look as exhausted as you felt. You’d been upright for barely fifteen minutes, and it already felt like you’d run a marathon.
The nurse was flipping through your chart when Bucky came in, this time with backup.
Steve gave you a quiet nod, smiling kindly at you. He set a bag of takeout on the tray table without ceremony. Syverson followed, carrying a bouquet so large it looked ridiculous in his hands.
Ari Levinson trailed behind, all, dark-haired, still in uniform, flashing you a crooked grin. His eyes swept over you in a slow, unhurried appraisal that made your face warm.
“Principal,” Ari drawled, smile flickering, “you’re looking better than last week.”
Your throat felt too tight to answer immediately.
“I’d hope so,” you managed.
Syverson smirked, glancing at Bucky.
“She’s even prettier up close. You didn’t say she was pretty, Buck.”
Bucky didn’t look at him. He was staring at you, his jaw flexing.
“Not relevant,” he muttered.
You mind began to spin.
Bucky didn’t say you weren’t pretty. He said it wasn’t relevant. So did he think you were pretty, or just that prettiness wasn’t relevant to the situation? Holy shit, the drugs must be affecting your brain.
Ari’s gaze slid back to you, amused at his friend’s reaction.
“You sure you’re ready to leave? You could milk this for a little longer.”
You managed a tired laugh, “I just want to go home.”
Silence. Your face went hot.
“I mean a home,” you corrected quickly. “I’m going to Amyra’s.”
Your parents were nearly an hour away, and you couldn’t stay on your own.
Not yet.
“Then let’s get you there,” Steve said, his voice warm as he set the takeout on the tray table.
“Just waiting on the last form,” you said.
The nurse finally came in, flipping through your chart.
“You have a ride home?”
Amyra’s voice came from the doorway, dry and affectionate all at once.
“Right here. I’ll go bring the car around.”
You pushed yourself upright, ignoring how your leg twinged.
“I can walk.”
The nurse gave you a look.
“Hospital policy says wheelchair discharge.”
Bucky’s mouth quirked. “Told you.”
Ari smirked, leaning closer, voice pitched low.
“He’s just trying to impress you. Thinks it’s charming when he plays stoic hero.”
Bucky’s jaw flexed so tight you thought it might crack.
“Knock it off,” he growled.
Syverson let out a low whistle, tipping his head toward the hall.
“C’mon, Ari. Let’s go warm up the truck before Barnes commits a homicide.”
Ari lingered half a beat longer, eyes sliding back to you.
“If you are half this stubborn at your school,” he mused, that grin widening, “I don’t know how any kid ever gets away with anything. You need someone who can keep up with that spirit at home.” he teased.
Bucky took a step toward him, his shoulders squaring like he’d forgotten you were watching.
Ari held up both palms in mock surrender and disappeared into the hallway, Syverson chuckling behind him. Steve shook his head and then spoke to you again.
“Please take care. We’ll… “ He caught his friend’s glare. “...I mean Bucky will check in on you.”
He smiled as he left, following his men.
You looked away from Bucky, but it didn’t matter, he was still watching you like he already knew what you were thinking.
“Hospital insists on wheeling you out,” he said. “I can do it.”
You blinked, flustered by the testosterone in the room.
“Since when does a fire lieutenant do the hospital escort?”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Since I’m a certified paramedic.”
You were surprised. And pleased. But you didn’t let it show.
“You…you don’t have to.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, already moving to get the chair. “I do.”
When you reached the exit, Amyra was waiting in her car.
“You good?” she called, her eyes flicking between you and Bucky like she was trying to read something neither of you had said out loud.
You nodded, even as your throat went tight. Bucky bent, one large hand bracing your elbow as he helped you stand.
His touch was professional. Almost.
“I’ll ride over behind you,” he said. “Make sure you get settled.”
Amyra lifted a brow. “I think I can handle it.”
He didn’t argue, just stated facts.
“Yeah. But I’ll still be there.”
—--
Amyra’s little bungalow felt impossibly calm after the hospital with it’s natural light and lavender smell. She helped you to the couch, fussing with your pillow, and making sure your leg was elevated.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice sounded thin in your own ears.
Her gaze flicked to the door just as Bucky stepped in, carrying your overnight bag and the takeout. He looked too big for the room, broad shoulders, heavy boots, that quiet, unshakable presence that made something in your chest pull tight.
“I was going to make sure your room has everything you need,” Amyra said, her tone so carefully casual it made you suspicious.
“Can you stay, Lieutenant Barnes?”
You opened your mouth to protest. Bucky cut in first, his voice low but unyielding.
“Yes, I’ll make sure she rests.”
Amyra’s brows rose.
“Oh, I’m sure you will.”
He shot her a look that probably worked on everyone else. Amyra just grinned.
“Call me if you need anything,” she sing-songed, already drifting to the hallway.
“Or if you need him removed.”
“Amyra,” you groaned.
“I heard that,” Bucky muttered under his breath.
She ignored you both as she slipped down the hall. Bucky stood there for a moment, just watching you. He looked tired.
“You really don’t have to stay,” you whispered.
“Yeah,” he said again, voice soft but final. “I do.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
He looked you in the eyes.
“I know,” he said quietly. “But you’ve got one anyway.”
He set the takeout on the coffee table and crouched to unzip the duffel.
“I’ll change your bandages after you eat,” he added, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Your throat went dry.
“You don’t…”
“You’re not an inconvenience,” he interrupted gently, glancing up.
His gaze held yours, unflinching. Heat crawled up your neck, your heart thudding so hard you were sure he could hear it.
“Okay,” you whispered.
His mouth curved, just a little.
And for one breathless second, you didn’t feel tired at all.
—--
Bucky unpacked the supplies efficiently, like this was something he’d done a hundred times and never thought twice about. He laid out gauze, antiseptic spray, ointment, and a fresh roll of the elastic bandage.
His hands were steady. Yours weren’t.
“I can call the nurse,” you said, though you didn’t mean it.
He gazed at you, blue eyes burning.
“I’m qualified.”
“I know.” Your voice came out too soft. “That’s not…”
You were lost in the ocean of his eyes.
“Do you trust me?”
It was such a simple question. And it shouldn’t have felt like the most intimate thing anyone had ever asked you.
“Yes,” you whispered.
He nodded once, the line of his jaw easing by a fraction. “Good.”
Carefully, he lowered himself to the edge of the couch, close enough that your knees brushed his thigh. The warmth of him bled through the thin cotton of your borrowed sweatpants, and you had to look away.
“I’m going to lift your leg,” he said quietly. “Tell me if it hurts.”
His hands were large, warm, and shockingly gentle as he braced your calf. You hissed when he shifted the limb onto a folded towel, and his gaze snapped up, searching your face.
“Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the unburned skin above your ankle in a reassuring stroke.
You tried. When he began unwrapping the bandage, you pressed your lips together keep from making a sound.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve got you.”
The last layer fell away, and cool air kissed the raw, angry skin. You swallowed, blinking fast.
“It looks good,” he said after a moment. “Healing clean.”
You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until it shuddered out of you.
“Still hurts,” you admitted.
His metal hand hovered for a second, then lowered to rest lightly against your shin, careful not to touch the burn.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’ve been there.”
Your gaze flicked to his arm.
“Do you have sensation in it?”
“Yes.” His thumb traced a slow line along your uninjured skin. “Not the way you’d think.”
You didn’t know what possessed you to ask.
“Can you feel my skin under your fingers now?”
His jaw worked, like he was sorting through a thousand things he wouldn’t say.
“Yes,” he said finally, voice rough. “I can.”
Your heart knocked hard against your ribs.
He set the clean gauze in place, the touch gentle but so precise it almost felt clinical, if it weren’t for the way he looked at you.
Like he was memorizing every small sound you made.
Like he’d never let anything hurt you again if he could help it.
When he finished with your bandage, he sat back on his heels and looked up at you, searching your face like he could read every unspoken thing you were holding in. He held your gaze for a second, and then looked away, moving to pack the supplies away.
You watched him in a daze, your cheeks still hot.
“Is this where you offer me a sponge bath, too?” you mumbled, trying to sound like you were joking, even though your voice was too unsteady.
He looked up, and his gaze pinned you in place again.
“I told you,” he murmured, his voice like gravel. “I’m qualified.”
Heat crawled up your neck so fast you thought you’d pass out.
Maybe he mistook the look on your face for pain, or maybe he didn’t, because he said, “You should take something.”
“I’m okay,” you sighed, because you were always okay.
Because you didn’t know how to be anything else.
His brow furrowed, and something about the way he looked at you, like he’d already decided you were his responsibility, made your throat close. His eyebrow raised.
“You keep saying that.”
He reached for the bottle of pills the nurse had sent with you and shook one into his palm. He held it out.
“Take it,” he said, steady and unflinching.
You looked at his hand, at the calluses and the faint scars along his knuckles, and at the way his metal fingers flexed against his thigh. And you realized you were too tired to argue.
Your hand brushed his as you took the pill. His fingers curled reflexively around yours, warm and sure, and for one heartbeat you didn’t feel like someone broken or in need.
You just felt seen.
He handed you the glass of water, watched you swallow the pill, and waited until you set the glass back down.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. The way he said that phrase made you feel things, but your eyelids were already heavy, the pain blurring at the edges, replaced by something warm and thick that made it hard to think.
You drifted in and out as he moved around the room, packing away the supplies, murmuring something to Amyra when she peeked back in.
When you opened your eyes again, it was darker and there was a ceiling fan spinning above you.
Amyra’s guest room.
The quilt tucked around your shoulders smelled like lavender and clean cotton. Your overnight bag sat neatly on the chair in the corner.
For a second, you couldn’t remember how you’d gotten there.
Then you realized.
He’d carried you.
And even though you told yourself it shouldn’t matter, it did.
It mattered more than anything had in a long time.
Because it was the second time Bucky Barnes had carried you to safety.
Hello all!
Just a little sherlock one shot that was cooking up in my head! God I love that man!! I promise We'll get back to the regularly scheduled program soon! I PROMISE!!!
Summary: Sherlock is busy with work, and you try your best to stay out of his way but you can be quite fussy when you want his attention.
Warnings: Cursing. Sex MDNI, P in V sex. Fingering, Multiple Orgasms. Creampie. Unprotected sex. dirty talk. Sherlock being painfully handsome! Soft Dom sherlock
Entranced, yes that was the word. I was fully entranced just watching from the doorway. The bright morning sun streams through the window of the study, casting a warm glow around him as he works. His features are almost angelic, of course; truly, he was anything but. The thought causes a soft giggle to escape my lips.
“If you were trying to be discreet, you’ve blown your cover,” he says, his voice low, smooth, and calm. There’s an ever-present smirk on his face. Throughout the whole interaction, he never once looks up from his desk. Another giggle escaped me, and I took a few steps into the study.
“Not sneaking, simply admiring.” I smile. “You’ve been working at this one for quite some time,” I tell him. I walk over to his desk, standing behind him, my hands gently resting on his large shoulders. His smirk grows wider, and he hums softly. I feel myself gasp as the detective captures one of my hands from his shoulders and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm.
“Yes,” He says, his voice steady and strong. “And still much more work to do. I don’t want to keep you cooped up in here watching me go mad. It’s a beautiful day, darling. Why don’t you go take in some of that lovely sunshine we’ve been blessed with, and I’ll work on finishing up here.” I bite my lip, my eyebrow raised in question, but I hold back my protest. Sherlock is a busy man. I’ve always known that. He never blatantly tries to ignore me or keep me otherwise occupied. So I nod, giving him a soft smile. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Okay, my love, please try not to go too crazy, will you?” I giggle. The request earns me a chuckle, and he looks up briefly to meet my gaze as I move to leave his study.
“I shall do my best, my darling.” He says before turning back to his work, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right; as always, I shouldn’t waste away in this flat waiting for him to finish his work.
So I do head out to town for a while. I walk the streets of downtown London in the warm spring air, breathing life into me. I stop at the market to see what fresh flowers they’ve got. Baker Street could certainly use a touch of color, and I know Sherlock won’t mind. After picking out a few bunches, my basket full of florals, herbs, and a few baked goods, I make my way back to the flat. It’s late afternoon now. I busy myself arranging the flowers in vases and putting away my other goods.
I still haven’t heard a sound from Sherlock. Peeking my head into his study, I see he’s still right where I left him. I sighed and shook my head. With nothing better to do I join him in his study. I scan his shelves for something to read, it’s been one of our favorite ways to spend quiet time together lately. Lying together in the garden, reading our respective stories. I look over at him again; still lost in his work, he’s probably barely even noticed my presence. Finding a story that is a particular favorite of mine I curl up on the chaise and open the book.
This may not have been nearly as good an idea as I’d thought. Since I woke this morning, I’ve been craving Sherlock's affections. Sitting so close now, only to be ignored and left unnoticed, has only annoyed me. I let out a huff, sitting up and looking over at his desk… nothing. I sigh and turn back to my book. I lie back, settling in again, struggling to get comfortable. Another hour passes. Or at least it feels like an hour. I suppose I can’t be sure. And I feel as if I’m going to go insane. I let out a groan of frustration.
“Not enjoying the story?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. He’s far too smart to believe that is the source of my plight. I pull back from my book far enough for him to see me roll my eyes, and he chuckles. “I do so love watching you squirm.” He says with a dark glint in his eye. And finally, he lays down his pen and slams his book shut. I raise an eyebrow at him, not daring to speak a word, but my eyes are full of challenge.
“I was hoping to spend a nice relaxing evening with you, my darling,” he teases. “But seem’s you needs an attitude adjustment.” He’s standing behind me, his breath hot on my ear as he purrs. “Am I going to have to fuck it out of you darling? Or are you going to apologize for being so bratty and impatient?” My mouth goes dry, and my body is suddenly on fire.
“S-sherlock.” I gasp. “I- my love, I didn’t intend to … I-” I stutter, trying to find the words, but it seems all competent thoughts have left me. This is just how he wants me. This is exactly what I meant, Sherlock is no angel. He likes to play dirty. Make me flustered and shy and needy. He won’t stop until I’m begging. Nothing gives him more pleasure than making me tell him all the dirty things I’d love him to do to me. All it takes is a look, and he has me melting. And as annoyed with him as I am for turning me into a brainless, incompetent, desperate woman. He knows this is exactly what I’ve been needing all day.
He chuckles and steps around the sofa, standing in front of me. He takes the book from my hands, tossing it to the side. He leans over me, a primal look in his eye as his knee gently parts my thighs and he hovers over me on the sofa.
“What didn’t you intend to do, my love? Hmm? Did you not intend to huff and pout for my attention? Is that it?” He smirks, nipping playfully at my ear as he chuckles darkly. “You just forgot your words, didn’t you darling, just forgot how to ask properly. It’s alright, my sweet. I’ll remind you.” He purrs his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as his tongue traces my collar bone.
“I’m sorry, my love.” I pant, my chest heaving. Instinctively, I tilt my head back to allow him better access. He lets out a feral growl, and his hands squeeze my hips possessively as he starts to explore my body with his touch.
“Oh, I know you are my sweet. And I’m going to give you the attention you so badly need.” He smirks, his hands slide under my skirt gripping my thighs, a low growl escaping him as he kisses my neck. I let out a soft needy moan my body arching into his my thighs naturally spreading to make room for him. He chuckles his breath tickling my skin where he’s biting at my collarbone.
“Still so impatient; you haven’t learned your lesson, have you my darling?” he cradles my face in his hands, kissing me passionately. His tongue explored my mouth as we kissed. When he pulls back, he grabs my wrist, nearly dragging me off the chaise. Before I can begin to fall, he catches me, holding me against his chest. “Now what should I do with you?” He purrs. I look up at him, my eyes blown wide with lust and desire.
“Sherlock, please,” I begged, my voice weak and pathetic. He lets out a low growl that I can feel deep in his chest. He grabs me around the waist, picking me up he holds me tightly with one arm as the other sweeps the papers from his desk. He sets me down and steps between my parted thighs.
“Please what, my love? Hmm? Ask for what you want darling.” He teases his hand, slowly creeping up my thigh again. his fingers graze the fabric of my panties, and my breath hitches.
“I-I can’t.” I blush, biting my lip. Sherlock chuckles his other hand gripping my chin to make me look at him.
“Yes, you can, sweetheart. You’ve had those filthy little desires playing in your head all day. And I want to hear every detail,” he growls. My breath catches in my throat as I hold his gaze.
“T-touch me,” I beg and grab his wrist, pressing his fingers more firmly against my core. “Here, please,” I whine. Sherlock lets out another low growl, capturing my lips in a searing kiss as he starts to slowly rub me through my panties. I whimper and arch into his body.
“So wet already. You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks, and finally, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties, pushing two inside me, curling them as he starts to pump them in and out. I let out a desperate mewl, my hips moving, grinding on his hand. He moves his thumb to rub circles on my clit. He smirks as he watches my face contort with pleasure. “That’s it, my love. So beautiful when you’re like this. So desprate for my affection. He adds a third finger and pumps them faster, curling them just right so I’m seeing starts. My hands come up to clutch his shirt, my thighs shaking and head falling back, letting out a needy moan. My walls clamp around his fingers gushing on his hand.
“Oh sherlock!” I whimper, panting as I come down from my orgasm.
“That was beautiful sweetheart,” He smiles, kissing me tenderly. “We’re far from done. You know that, don’t you?” he teases. I giggle, nodding shyly. Without further preamble, he tears open my blouse, his eyes raking over me hungrily. He tears off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and cups my face, kissing me passionately. He gently pushes me back, laying me back on the desk, his lips trailing down my body. He stops when he gets to my breasts squeezing them softly and leaning down to capture my nipple in his mouth sucking and flicking with his tongue. I moan loudly, my back arching, pushing my breast further against his mouth.
He groans sucking soflty and then swithing to give attention to the other breasts. He shoves up my skirt, bunching it around my waist, and then fumbles with his zipper.
“I can’t wait be inside you,” He moans. I gasp as I feel the thick head of his cock brush through my folds
“My love, please, I need to feel you filling me. Make me whole.” I beg. With a feral growl, he surges forward, sheathing himself inside my tight heat. He lets out a groan, giving me only a moment to adjust before he sets a punishing pace.
“Fuck,” He moans. “You’re so tight, so perfect, darling. Is this what you needed, my sweet? To be filled and taken. Reminded who you belong to?” I nod and let out a breathy moan. He pulls my leg up around his hip and drives into me deeper. The angle allows him to hit that perfect spot deep within me. My eyes roll back, and I feel myself climbing to my high.
“My perfect girl,” sherlock praises his as he brings his thumb between us to rub my clit. My body shakes beneath him as he captures my lips in another searing kiss.” Thats it, my love. Let go,” he coos. “Let me feel all your pent up desire and love as you cum for me.” he encourages. I feel my pussy spasming on his cock and he growls “Good girl,” With those words I tumble over the edge my toes curling my head falling back gushing on his cock as my body trembles with pleasure.
“Sherlock!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me and he fucks me through it. I feel his hips start to falter and he takes my hand pinning my wrists to the desk as he fucks me, his breathing ragged as he lets out a string of incoheart praises.
“Yes,.. fuck.. You’re perfect, my love. Gonna fill you with my seed… such a good girl for me. Take it all, darling.” He growls in my ear, his body going stiff as he releases inside me. His hips jerk softly as he works himself through his orgasm.
We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies connected and whole. With a soft groan, Sherlock stands and slowly pulls out of me. He takes my hand, helping me sit up on the desk. He cups my face and peppers it with kisses, pulling back and searching my face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his voice soft and tender. I nod a satisfied smile on my lips.
“Yes darling, I’m perfect.” I giggle. “I am sorry for being such a brat when I’m being needy.” I blush, ducking my head to tuck myself against his chest. Sherlock chuckles.
“I know you are, my sweet. the truth is.” He says with a slight smirk in his voice. “I quite enjoy it, I was finished with my work hours ago. But I do so enjoy watching you squirm.” He winks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!!
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Eyes That See Summary: Your life has consisted of caring for others. This is a story of you learning to care for yourself.
Eyes That See Part 28 Summary: After an eventful day, you and Sy…go to bed.
Words: 13.5k
TW: smut. oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, body worship, reader’s poorly-hidden praise/creampie kinks (visual) (2)
A/N: ten points if anyone can tell me what Y/N is unspeakingly worried about the second she wakes up before getting breakfast
Holding each other under the spray of the shower, you and Sy slowly start to sway. The movement is soothing but soon changes; Sy’s erection rhythmically slides against your stomach in a way that becomes too evident to be accidental, and the moment turns from soft and romantic to heated and romantic. You glance up at him and watch his expression grow heady, almost like he’s drunk.
Suddenly, you’re taken back to standing by the car outside your dad’s place where Sy, unable to stop touching and kissing you, made it known just how much he wants you. And hell, you want him. When he bends and places his forehead against yours, you’re overwhelmed by just how much, and you close your eyes.
Silently, almost sacred, both your hands get more exploratory, creating paths over each other’s slick skin, fingers gently gripping what they can. You touch the swell of his muscular ass and then his lower back before sliding your hands up his stomach and chest, ultimately holding onto his shoulders for good. Likewise, he squeezes your ass, too, then trails one hand up your waist before stopping at one of your breasts, cupping and squeezing.
He starts running his thumb over your nipple, and within seconds of your first little shaky and inadvertent sound of contentment, he finally covers your mouth with his. Straightaway, he pours into the kiss so much you feel your knees buckle, and as your hands move to grip the back of his neck, he pulls you in even closer to steady you.
You pour into the kiss just as much, widening your mouth and meeting his tongue with equal pressure, communicating together. His kisses say he loves you, he’s proud of you, you amaze him every day–Your kisses say you love him, he’s the best man you’ve ever known, you’re so happy to have him in your life.
Right after your mouths start making sounds together, Sy detaches from you and just stares at your face for a few moments. Almost regretfully, like he’d like to stay like this, he gives you a look before standing up straight and loosening his hold on you. Your arms fall to your sides as you watch him take a step backwards and turn off the water.
Sy opens the shower curtain next, and you’re momentarily upset at the sudden temperature change and loss of body contact, but the look he gives you as he helps you step out onto the bare tile of the bathroom tells you that it’ll all be worth it soon. He’s not going anywhere.
Sy throws a spare towel on the ground for you both to use as a bath-mat, but still, water drips all over the floor. You don’t care. As you both towel yourselves dry, it’s back to the same heaviness as before, that same anticipatory buzzing as there was on the car ride here. It’s that feeling of having an invisible string attached to one another so that where one person goes, so does the other. You also could compare it to a magnet, or a shadow, even. It’s a bond that allows you both to communicate with just your eyes. You’re growing more confident with it all the time.
Amidst all of that, there’s still something off-setting about the sudden brightness of the bathroom compared to the relative dimness behind the shower curtain, though, like you’ve just left a dark movie theater and have stepped outside into too-bright sunshine. With the bathroom door remaining open this entire time, no steam has fogged up the room at all–nor the giant mirror above the long counter–and strangely, you don’t want to be entirely naked right now. And though you know there’s literally no reason whatsoever to feel self-conscious, you wrap your towel across your chest and secure it, anyway.
That’s when Sy pushes you against the counter with two firm hands on your hips. He kisses you, but it’s soft and it’s short–not a continuation of the long, sensual kisses from a second ago. In the next breath, he coaxes you to turn around to face the mirror, and you follow his unspoken instruction. Putting all your focus on Sy’s reflection, you don’t look at yourself at all.
The feeling of Sy’s hard body standing behind you entirely naked and entirely possessive is one thing; the image of it is something else. One of his bare legs is visible to the side of your towel, the quadricep muscle locked tight and the flattened hair on his upper thigh almost teasing. If he moved just an inch to the side, he’d reveal his dark pubic hair, and another inch to the side…even more. It looks like a photograph.
Sy bends down to gently kiss your shoulder and then the back of your neck. His beard, trimmed and groomed specifically for this trip, is soft and somewhat wet against your skin. “I wanna fuck you in front of a mirror like this some time,” he murmurs, making your eyes go big. “So you can see what I see.”
That sounds like a very difficult idea for you to imagine finding comfort in, but still, you’re automatically nodding, whispering, “Okay.”
Sy’s fingers twitch atop your thighs. “Yeah?” He presses himself even closer to you, letting you feel how hard he is. “Gonna let me?”
“Would let you do anything,” you breathlessly and honestly answer, and he chuckles. For a brief moment, your eyes meet in the mirror, and he gives you a little smile that you instantly return.
The atmosphere is suddenly tender. “Except you wouldn’t,” he says as he slides a hand around to rest over the terry-cloth covering your stomach. “Not if you didn’t like it.”
You close your eyes and sigh, leaning your head back against his chest. “I always like what you do.”
“Do you?”
“Mhm.” Even if it takes mental effort to try to not be embarrassed by it.
Sy’s other hand trails up the side of your stomach, too, and stops at the bottom swell of your breast.
“But you would tell me if you didn’t,” he confidently coaxes while his head dips to the other side of your neck. Your affirmative response must vibrate from your throat onto his lips because afterwards, he hums appreciatively.
Still, he must want you to speak aloud. He cups your breast and pointedly asks, “Wouldn’tchu?”
“Yeah, Sy,” you practically whisper. “I'd tell you.”
Whereas there was heat and impatience earlier in the evening, now, after the shower, there’s a special type of softness in Sy that he only shows to you and you alone. He purposefully does not remove your towel. He does, however, undo the clasp of your necklace, and he carefully places it on the countertop.
“Turn back around, sweetheart.”
Feeling under a spell, you listen and look up at him, and while he leans down, you push yourself up on your toes. This kiss is long. Open-mouthed, deep, and indulgent, you get swept away almost instantly and flatten your feet on the bathroom floor. Your center of focus is your mouths moving together, your tongues sharing warmth. To keep yourself from floating away, your hands lightly come to rest on Sy’s lovehandles.
Within a second, Sy grunts as he hefts you up onto the counter, and you barely have time to hiss at the coldness underneath your thighs before he’s already planting his hands there and pulling you towards him entirely. From the strain of his muscles, you can tell he’s preparing to entirely lift you up, and with a gasp, you quickly lift your arms to lock around his neck. While you’re trying to cross your ankles at his lower back, he’s already walking out of the bathroom.
Your bare pussy makes minor contact with his stomach with every other strong step he takes, and you know he must feel it. His expression gives away nothing as he carefully lays you on the mattress and hovers over you while you lean back and adjust yourself.
It’s almost imperceptible, but you catch it, anyway–a small wince on Sy's face, a consequence of carrying you. You instantly disentangle your legs from around his back and move to the middle of the bed. It gives him space to lay down next to you, and once there, he half-covers your body with his own.
You lift a hand to his neck. “You’ve been walking too much this weekend,” you worry aloud, keeping your voice quiet.
Sy makes a noise of acknowledgement at that, but as usual, doesn’t offer any further comment. You roll onto your left side and gently touch his chest. Sitting up a bit, you firmly push against his skin. “Lay back.”
Sy raises an eyebrow and stares at you until you sigh and roll your eyes. You push yourself up even more and wait for him to move onto his back. “Just roll over,” you chuckle. “Lay back.”
Reluctantly, he listens. “Bossin’ me around already,” he mutters with a glint in his eyes.
After moving to sit up all the way, you carefully lift your right leg over his waist and get situated, putting your knees on the mattress and bending your legs to fit snug against the sides of his stomach. Or–as snug as possible. He’s so wide that you do the best you can. While you tilt and begin to lower your face, Sy holds you at the hips.
Long and slow, you press your lips to Sy’s. “Puttin’ you in your place, I thought it was,” you quietly say into his mouth, ending it by licking his upper lip.
“Whatever it is,” Sy utters in between another kiss, “feel free to keep doin’ it.”
You smile and settle all of your lower body weight on Sy, no longer just hovering over him. When your pussy makes actual contact with the flat hair on his lower stomach, Sy immediately pulls you in even closer, humming appreciatively. Not being able to help it, you roll your hips backwards a little bit and then forward again, and a little whimper escapes your throat. In a way that has nothing to do with just having showered, you’re wet.
After exchanging even more slow and heated kisses, you sit up all the way. Not breaking eye-contact with Sy, you lift your hands to the top of the towel you’re wearing. Slowly, you take the fabric apart, and just as slowly, you let it fall onto his legs.
Like he hadn’t just literally showered with you mere minutes ago, Sy’s eyes eagerly take in your nudity, parting his lips while unabashedly settling his gaze on your breasts. The heating unit by the far wall clicks on just then, almost drowning out his quietly-uttered, “God, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” but not quite. You hear it and feel flushed all over.
This isn't a position you often find yourself in. On top of the blankets and on top of Sy, you’re more exposed than you’d normally be comfortable with, but the only illumination in the room is the dim light of the bathroom, plus Sy’s looking up at you with such blatant desire that an unfamiliar sort of courage blooms inside you.
It’s not just desire in his eyes, though. It’s that intimate glint reserved just for you, what you recognize now as love. Only he gets to see you like this. This is yours to share with only one another.
Only you get to see him like this–on his back, the hard lines of his face smoothed out, his serious eyes turned soft, gazing up at you like you're all there is in the room. Even though the weight of his attention is heavy at times, you yearn for it. And even though it’s hard at times to hear his compliments, you melt in his praise.
Inside, you know that there’s nothing to be nervous about. He loves you. You’re safe with him. He’s proud of you.
You lean down again and take Sy’s face in both hands, continuing to kiss him as long and as savoring as you want. He enthusiastically responds, and in no time, both of your jaws are opening and closing like waves while sharing wet, rippling kisses.
Without breaking your mouths apart, Sy touches you. He touches you everywhere–with all parts of his hands. Fully caressing your breasts, thumbing over your nipples, sliding just his fingertips down the delicate skin over your ribcage–that’s how he starts. Then he trails his hands over your thighs, letting you feel the callouses on his palms. Greedily, he slides back up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing where they're occasionally touching his own chest, then he moves to the long plane of your back. Eventually, he lowers his hands again to run along your legs, and ultimately, he lands on his destination–your ass.
While your faces gently continue to move left and right, you realize you’ve been steadily squirming on Sy, getting the bottom of his happy trail damp. He grips both of your ass cheeks and firmly pulls you in even closer, and it’s evident that your movements haven’t been unnoticed. He’s encouraging them.
Your inner thighs are starting to get sticky, so much it's like you're sitting in oil. It’s dirty, but feeling how wet his lower stomach has gotten because of you has you letting out one of your first obscene noises of the night, directly into Sy’s mouth. You can’t help but to undulate your hips even more against the slick-matted hair there.
Sy groans and lifts a hand to cup your jaw, fingertips splaying out towards the back of your head. “Feel good?”
His strong hand suddenly on your face makes it hard for you to even move it, but, panting into his mouth, you answer with a little nod.
“Yeah?” he whispers. The tip of your nose touches his while you nod again.
“Keep goin’, baby,” he quietly urges. “Lemme keep listenin’ to you.”
Closing your eyes, you start moving again, but it’s choppy. With all the attention on this specific thing now, borderline humiliation starts to creep in. It’s like that morning you woke up rubbing yourself over Sy’s thigh, stuck between drowsiness and consciousness, horniness and self-realization. Having it even brought up was enough for you to fully freeze at that moment.
Sy’s voice is ardent when he says your name. In response to the tone of it, your eyes immediately open.
“Get outta your head with me,” he reminds you in a whisper. “Just keep feelin’ good.”
Giving him another little nod, you watch his face while you start to rut against his stomach again–still slow, but purposefully and pleasurably so–just little circles now. Sy really does seem to enjoy watching and listening to you, so you remind yourself again that even though this could come across as degrading with anyone else, you have no reason to be nervous. You can feel how hard his dick is directly behind your ass.
Your hands that’ve been holding Sy’s face and neck move down to his chest, and you lightly prop yourself upwards, putting a little more space between your bodies. When the little circles you’re making start feeling really good, you softly whine, “Oh, God.”
Sy watches all he can between your bodies, eyes darting between your rocking pelvis and your tits directly in front of his face. “There you go,” he murmurs, quiet quiet quiet. “There you go.”
Your voices are almost too faint to hear under regular circumstances, but now, with everything so intimate, it’s only right for everything to be hushed. Every sound you make, though steadily becoming a little dirty-sounding, remains soft.
After moving his hand to the small of your back, Sy lets out a deep grumbling-sound when he feels the exact rhythm of how you’re rocking and gliding on top of him. You whimper as the near-constant lubrication and pressure on your clit rapidly becomes almost too pleasurable. Sy’s dark eyes lift up to your face in time to see your eyebrows scrunching together, your mouth dropped open.
You’re already close to coming, and you don’t want that yet–just on the off-chance that your body won’t cooperate doing it a second time later on. It’s challenging, but you pointedly stop moving and offer Sy a sheepish look, heavily breathing above him before leaning down for a single kiss. Lowering yourself down his body the next instant, you kiss your way along his hairy chest and stomach, skipping a certain spot when it makes your face heat up.
Sy turns his head to the side and groans before widening both of his thick legs for you to situate yourself in between. Once there, you rest your head on the very top of his left leg and glance up at him without touching him at all. He reaches down and runs his hand over your hair in a petting motion. You softly smile as you begin to calm down from your earlier peak.
Lightly, you run a finger along Sy’s cock, now pointing at his belly button and so erect that prominent veins are showing. His fingers tighten on your hair once you reach the slit at the top and begin spreading around his pre-cum with your fingertips.
“You’re really hard,” you flit your eyes upwards and whisper.
He reaches down to grab his dick at the very bottom, holding it upright. “Yeah,” he looks you directly in the eye and murmurs. “I am.”
You reach out and softly touch Sy’s inner thigh next, noticing how pale it is compared to his other weather-darkened skin, how relatively hairless the area is compared to the rest of his legs. Next, you trail your fingers over the velvety skin of his balls, first at the crease and then each one individually. The more inward you focus, the thicker his hair becomes, and you’re lost in the pure masculinity of how it all looks–his cock in his hand, his tight balls underneath, his pubic hair surrounding everything.
Gradually looking up his body, you take in all the hair atop his stomach and chest, moving your hand to slide upwards until there’s enough to gently grip in your fist, then you glance even higher to study his beard.
There’s a sensation on your head, and you realize it’s Sy running his hand over your hair again. Finally, you look up at his eyes, but you’re distracted a second later when he slides his thumb along your cheek and rests it on your bottom lip, pushing.
You close your mouth around his offering, realizing that while you’ve been resting your head on his leg, you’ve begun to drool, almost enough to drip on his thigh. Immediately, with weight in your mouth, your eyes get heavy and slip closed.
The thumb goes away, and Sy says your name. Then he says baby. You squint open your eyes.
The room feels as hazy as your mind does when you finally lean inwards and lick Sy’s cock where he’s angling it towards your mouth. Like time right now is heavy and slow. Like there’s no rush for anything at all. Nothing’s urgent, and everything’s just right. Like this is all there is.
You carefully lap up all the fluid at Sy's cockhead with little swirls of your tongue and listen to the hitches in his breath. After alternating with licking, sucking, and flicking–keeping everything purposefully slow–Sy starts taking in louder lungfuls of air.
When he removes his hand from the base of his cock, it jumps. Your hand instantly takes its place, and when you try to pull upwards, there’s hardly any give. After a few more tortuously slow pulls, you finally shift so that you’re entirely centered between his legs, no longer with your head on his leg.
In this ongoing glow of confidence Sy’s giving you, you look him in the eyes while you begin to lower your mouth again–this time front and center. You feel addicted to all of this right now–to him in your mouth, to the image of him laying like he is, broad and hairy and periodically lifting his head to look down at you only to throw it back on his pillow a second later. Watching Sy start to lose control of himself is one of the best things ever.
Ultimately, he shoves a few pillows behind his head and sits up a little bit so he can watch everything you’re doing. He places his hand on the back of your head again, and it’s a pleasant weight as you drop your mouth as low as you possibly can before sliding it back up. Slowly, you repeat the action several times until you’ve drooled all over his dick, but even then, you’re not done messing around. You mouth and lick down the sides and back up with no real purpose but to hear Sy’s breathing switch up with every new thing you do.
When you get him entirely in your mouth again, you start using your hand to stroke him in time. Even at your slow pace, Sy doesn’t push on your head or rush you. He remains still, only letting out staccato breaths and short, sporadic grunts. You covet every one of them.
When he finally speaks, it's when you momentarily take your hand off him and lower your mouth as much as you possibly can. When you pull up to the tip again, you just lower your mouth again, starting to slowly bob your head and suck, and Sy lets out a long, quiet, and drawn-out, “Yeaahh.”
To rest your cheeks, you remove your mouth after a while to just jerk him with your hand, but you’re sure to keep everything excruciatingly slow. Witnessing him still heavily gazing down at you, you look directly in his eyes while your hand moves, sticking your tongue out and circling it around the tip of his dick.
With his first soft-spoken swear of the night, his hand drops from your head down onto the mattress. Again, his vowel sound is lengthened, fricative as he grunts, “Shii-iit.”
He must like what he sees. Happily, you wiggle a little bit.
When you decide you’ve teased enough, you finally lower your mouth again and instantly give the pressure and speed and suction you know he likes with your mouth, tongue, and hand. You start bobbing your head up and down, jerking him at the same time, and right away, he’s affected, groaning from deep within his chest.
“Fuck, just like that,” he slurs, and the simple praise that he likes what you’re doing lights you up. With his dick in your mouth, you want to smile. You love making him feel good. “Yeah. So fuckin’ good.”
You moan around him instantly. He smells and tastes like clean skin with an underlying layer of salt and arousal, and it makes your head feel even heavier. Your lust-droopy eyes slip closed while you fall into a rhythm that’s quick yet still relatively unpredictable. Moving downwards and upwards, sometimes you repeatedly bob your head. Other times you keep your fist at the top to touch your lips while you suck extra hard and wildly circle your tongue. Mainly, you go by Sy’s breathing and his soft cussing, moaning in satisfaction with the knowledge you’re doing good every time he praises you. You look up at him almost constantly.
Your free hand twitches on Sy’s upper leg when you feel your pussy begin to clench on nothing at all, and you whine when the urge to grind against something returns. Breathing heavily through your nostrils, you shift onto your knees for a second before finally bowing your spine, sticking your ass up in some vain attempt to stop everything inside you from throbbing so much. Just then, Sy’s hips fiercely jump upwards, causing his dick to stab your tonsils.
“Fuck, baby, shit,” he sharply lets out right as you cough, and from his tone, it’s him apologizing.
Sy can always control himself right up until the second he’s about to come. You’ve learned that he’ll only thrust his hips upwards when he’s right on the edge. He’s too considerate otherwise, even going so far as to entirely back out of your mouth if he hears you choking even a little.
This time you encourage it, reaching underneath to grip his ass-cheek and literally pull him deeper inside your mouth, but with tightly coiled legs and a firm grip on your hair from out of nowhere, everything suddenly stills. Though you try to resist, Sy’s strong when he pulls you off his dick with a loud popping sound, and a long string of saliva trails from your mouth as you look up at him. He swears under his breath, but you can’t hear what he actually says. You just keep looking at him.
“C’mere, darlin’,” he mutters like it’s not the first time he’s said it, nudging your hair. “C’mere.”
He must not want to come yet, either. You climb back up to straddle his waist again, feeling his hands instantly settle on your hips. Heavily breathing, you wipe your hand across your lips, then you fish for more praise.
“Good?” you ask with a smile, your voice scratchy.
Again, Sy’s hands begin to move everywhere, and they won’t stop. They run up and down your sides, around to your back and then down to your ass, then up your back again only to slide around to your breasts.
“Yeah, baby, so good, perfect,” Sy indulges, even though he’d told you that already. Just massaging your breasts together, he groans, slow and deep. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
You want to say No, I’m not, but you remind yourself that to Sy, you are, so you just offer a small smile.
He moves his hands to your hips and pulls. “Get back down here.”
With so many pillows still behind his back, he’s propped up, and it’s easy to move until you’re entirely pressed against his chest. The moment you wrap your hands around his thick neck and press your lips onto his, however, he yanks the pillows away and lays back on the mattress, taking you with him.
After letting out a little gasp and then a little chuckle, you tilt your head to the side and actually kiss Sy, laying your chest flat against his. Minutely, you simultaneously begin moving your hips in little circles again, just something to ease the ache, and then he starts talking into your mouth.
“Fuck.” Sy’s hands come to rest on your ass, and he squeezes each cheek generously. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Y/N. So pretty.”
With a whine, your eyes close instantly. You’re rubbing your bare cunt across his stomach and you both have the taste of his dick in your mouths, and he’s calling you pretty.
Behind you, Sy reaches downwards and takes hold of himself. You feel a smear of liquid against your ass-cheek then the slow tell-tale movements of his hand pulling up and down, and it gives you the brief burst of courage you need to brace a hand on his chest to lift your upper body entirely up.
While Sy’s lazily stroking himself behind you, you push your upper body up and start grinding your hips again, a little more evidently this time since this foreplay apparently has no time-limit and both of you are obviously really fucking into it. It feels like it should be dirty, so dirty–fucking without fucking–but with your eyes trained intently on one another’s, all it feels is right. It feels so good, there's no way it's anything but right.
A few moments of pleasure later, you slightly lift yourself so you can slide down Sy’s upper thighs. Beckoning him to move his hand off himself, you move even further down his legs until you can look down and see his cock. Carefully, carefully, you lower yourself, cover Sy’s dick with your pussy, and start to slide your wetness upwards from root to tip.
Sy’s mouth widely drops open, and he strains his neck while looking down, breathing through only his mouth. When his eyes flicker up to your face, it’s like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Fuck, baby,” he lets out, all in one hotly exhaled breath.
Sy goes back to staring at your gliding pussy lips encasing his dick before briefly looking up at you again. “Watch,” he tells you. “Watch with me.”
You look down for only a second and have to close your eyes.
“Nuh-uh. Watch.”
“Sy.”
“Tell me what it feels like.”
You whine while continuing to move.
He grunts in response. “Look how fuckin’ wet you're makin’ me.”
After you look down again, Sy reaches out for your tits like he’s starved. When he gets both your breasts in his large hands, he moves his thumbs around and around your pebbled nipples, obsessed, and you just can’t take it anymore. You need more. You’ve gotta have more. Everything is–
Sy slightly pinches one of your nipples, and you cry out. “What’s it feel like?”
“Really good,” you whisper quickly, almost feeling frantic. “Really, really good.”
You lean one hand down on Sy’s chest. Reaching down with the other hand, you take hold of his slick cock and angle it straight up. You want him inside you now.
Your leg muscles clench as you lift up and then impulsively begin sinking down to match up with the tip of Sy, but when you feel his cockhead make contact with your dripping pussy and just barely breach inside, you freeze.
Your face darts up to look at Sy, and you honest-to-God whine. He looks at you momentarily like you’re crazy for stopping, then he taps your leg. “My bag, fuck,” he says almost urgently. “The left.”
You’re frustrated that you can’t just stretch out and reach into Sy’s bag from your current position. You have to climb over him until you’re on the side of the bed, then you have to lean down to unzip the pouch on the left of his gym back. When all you find is a pocket-knife–what the fuck did he pack a pocket-knife for–you then have to unzip the pouch on the right.
“Dammit, the other left,” you mutter.
You grab a packet from the small box and instantly climb back on top of Sy’s thick thighs. You try to rip open the foil, and even though your hands aren't even slippery or anything, you struggle. “I-Shit, Sy, I can’t–get this–fucking–”
You’re about to give up and just use your teeth to open the package when Sy reaches out to take it from you. “You’re hands’re shakin’,” he murmurs, eyebrows touching.
You look down at your hands and can feel the anticipatory anxiety in them, like they’re full of crawling ants.
“Hey.” Sy waits until you look at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Quickly, you nod. “I just feel really–a lot.”
“You are a lot.”
You smirk. “You're a lot. This is a lot,” you gesture between your bodies and reply. “It’s…always a lot.”
Sy looks you down and back up. “This still okay?” he asks, and God, he–he just knows you so well. Knows how new situations make you nervous even if they’re something you want. “You okay like this?”
You neither shake nor nod your head. You just lean down to kiss him. When your lips break, he says, “I need words.”
You swallow. “Yeah,” you answer, but your voice comes out nervous. You remember the conversation you'd had not even thirty minutes ago in the car, how you and Sy were literally discussing your preference for him being in charge because it makes you feel less nervous knowing you don't have to control everything.
…But no one’s saying he isn’t in control like this. You were on top of him on the couch that one time–that time you were on your back laying on top of him–so you repeat yourself, a little less shaky, “Yeah. I’m good.”
“And what’re you gonna do if you ain’t feelin’ it?”
You look down and smile a little bit. “Gonna let you know.”
Sy tears open the condom packet and takes out the slippery latex, instantly looking down as he rolls it on himself. He pinches the end before holding his dick fully upright at the top, and you just stare down at him with your mouth open. God, he’s hot.
“Sy?”
He looks up right away.
“Just–like, keep talkin’ to me.”
He gives you that sideways little smile, and he reaches out to pull your face down to his. With your lips just millimeters apart, he quietly whispers, “Baby. With you ridin’ my dick, ain’t no way you could shut me up.”
Quickly, you breathe, and you’re so close to him that you can’t even see both his eyes–you have to focus on just one. Sy rests his free hand on your thigh and slightly squeezes, spurring you to lift yourself for him. As if drawn together, you both instantly and innately move to unite–you getting upright again and lifting your hips, Sy holding himself to seek out your heat. Sinking down where you feel his fingers, you match up, and you continue lowering yourself until the head of his cock just barely pops inside you. Once you drop just a tiny bit more, Sy moves his hand away and grasps your other thigh.
Already feeling a stretch, you lower yourself a tiny bit at a time, soundlessly gasping when you rise back up again. Repeatedly, you do this, and you're rewarded by Sy's heavy breathing and the most lust-filled expression imaginable on his face.
“Yeah, keep goin’,” he murmurs, dazed and gravelly and giving you all you need to keep going. “You can take it all.”
You lean a hand down onto Sy’s chest and slowly keep working your hips up and down. You know you can take all of him–you know it. The lower you go, though, the more resistance it feels like there is, like you're just not going to be able to get the lower half inside in this position. You let out a whine, and Sy brings one of his hands up to the back of your head, beckoning you to cover his mouth with yours again.
Once more, you fall forward. Once more, your humid mouths slot together. You’ll never get tired of kissing this man, so you start up with the same fervor you’d shared earlier, tongues going crazy, tasting and exploring his mouth, moaning into it because you love him and he makes you feel good.
Sy starts shallowly pushing upwards to match your careful movements downwards. After a few seconds, he takes hold of your hips, strongly thrusts upwards, and simultaneously pulls your body down. Within a second, you’re speared on his dick, bodies connected as much as physically possible, and both of you sound out as one.
Your noise is more of a quiet scream than a moan; it’s like Sy’s cock has pushed through a barrier that’s led to an explosion of pleasure on the other side of it. As you let out a shaky whimper at how good everything feels already-not even really moving yet–Sy lets out a deep noise like he’s been injured, like he’s been punched in the stomach.
You look at his face to witness his features tightly contorted in what looks like pain. His mouth is taut, his teeth clenched. His hands are gripping your hips so firmly that it almost aches. It takes a second, but you're finally able to get out, “Sy–baby–are you all right?”
He lets out a noise almost like a laugh, but again, like everything else going on with him right now, it’s strained. “Fuck, are you?” He finally opens his eyes, and they're heavy-lidded and dark.
“Yeah, it’s–” God, your pussy’s throbbing around Sy, like a heartbeat you feel throughout your entire body. “It’s really good.”
His fingers twitch where they’re digging into your skin. “You feel fuckin’ amazin’.”
“Sy,” you desperately moan, and for a moment, you feel a little crazy. It’s so fucking much that you feel out of your mind. How is it like this? How is it always like this?
You slot your mouth to Sy’s again right before you start lifting yourself up his shaft, and–oh, that’s a sound you recognize. You’ve never heard Sy make whatever noise that was a second ago, but the ones now–the ones he’s letting out into your mouth–you know. Your lips curve into a smile in the middle of a kiss.
Breaking the kiss momentarily, you watch his face as you lift your hips up again. The look he gives you is almost dark. When his hands travel from your hips to the backs of your legs, cupping your ass, you're half-expecting him to entirely flip you over.
He doesn’t. Instead, one hand remains grasping one ass cheek while his other starts to travel to the middle. Like it's nothing, he trails an index finger down the tight crease of skin under your tailbone and then lightly over your dry hole. He goes lower until you feel his touch against where you’re stretched around his cock. After cursing between his teeth, he moves that hand to your ass cheek again.
“God, you're so tight.”
“Mmm.”
You try to stay slow, just trying out what feels the best for you and what elicits the most sounds from Sy, little by little getting used to the stretch, body reshaping itself around him.
If his half-moon eyes and slack jaw are any indication, he likes when you ride just the tip of him. He likes when you take all of him inside, too, going almost all the way up and sinking down with your full body weight. He also likes when you don’t move much at all and simply grind and circle your hips against him. You’re so worked up that you do it all.
You don’t mean to, but your mind momentarily drifts somewhere for a second–and you know you shouldn’t be in your head at all right now, but you can’t help it. It’s hard to stop thinking for long enough to actually get into a rhythm of something. You want Sy to tell you what to do.
Sy must clock your nervousness. While putting his hand on the back of your head, he simultaneously leans upwards and pulls you into another heated kiss, seeming to realize that kissing is calming. Without breaking from your mouth, he falls back to the mattress and takes you with him again. Keeping your legs bracketed at the sides of Sy’s stomach, your hands slide upwards to wrap around his neck. Appreciatively, Sy’s own hands run up and down the long lines of your bare back once you’re crouching so close over him that your hair drops onto his face.
“What d’you like the best, like this?” you whisper. “What do you want?”
“Just make yourself feel good, baby.” Sy smiles as he slides his hands down to your ass. “That’s what I want. I wanna see you do whatchu want.”
Okay. You trust him. You trust him with all parts of you. Now you can actually let go. Those are his directions–just do what you want.
You nod at him.
“Yeah?” he whispers. “You gonna be good and take whatchu want?”
“Good God,” you utter. Shakily, you press a whisper of a kiss on his lips, then you begin moving again, with rhythm, with purpose, working on chasing pleasure again. Encouragingly, Sy cups your ass cheeks and repeatedly helps lift you up, almost to the point where he’s doing all the work, but mainly just setting the pace before moving his hands to other parts of you.
Only when you get into an addictive rhythm does Sy start fucking his hips up, and after he bends his legs and plants his feet on the mattress, you both gently start to glide and crash together.
You kiss him again and again and whimper into his mouth–quiet little sounds exiting the back of your throat in time with every quickening breath you let out. “Syyy.”
Soon you start actually moaning instead of whimpering through heavy breaths, and Sy follows, deeply groaning, as well. In two separate octaves, you move in time and share reserved passion. “Mmm, mhmm.”
Even though it’s more for you to coordinate–making out and fucking–instinct takes over. You both massage one another’s tongues with the same rhythm that your bodies are uniting with, and with Sy’s hands touching your ass and your breasts and your legs and your neck, with his groans filling your mouth, your speed gradually increases.
So do your sounds.
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah,” Sy says encouragingly, deep and low.
Though you want to, you grow too exerted to continue kissing nonstop. The air between your noses and mouths gets too humid once you both start to sweat, so you push your hands against his chest again to lift your upper body up. Instantly, Sy pushes himself up with his hands on the mattress and, clearly not one to lay still, begins placing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.
You hold onto Sy’s shoulders just as he’s taking your breasts in both hands. The angle is different now, and instead of moving up and down on him, you start grinding forward, making his dick press against some sharp spot inside of your pussy while your clit presses against his pubic bone.
“Fu-uck,” you say through a choked-back moan when you feel him start mouthing at your nipples, then groaning against you, then lightly biting. Your face contorts at the sensation of your pussy being stretched, being filled, and, outside of that, you feeling utterly consumed and taken care of and safe and lit up. “Sy, fuck.”
Frantically, you grab the back of Sy’s neck with one hand while continuing to undulate your hips, and when he’s done kissing along your neck, he just stares down at you.
“God, lookatchu.”
You look down at your bodies carnally grinding together, and to blindly chase everything, you begin rutting forward even faster. “Look at you.”
Everything in the world is focused on the sensations you’re washing yourselves in. Sy feels so good and smells so good and looks so good and sounds so good, encouraging you with his breathy grunts and shallow thrusts and constant whispers of dirty-sweet stuff into the hot air between your faces.
You both breathe heavily and remain otherwise quiet while just watching one another, but when Sy lets out a grunted “fuck,” his lips pursed like he’s concentrating real hard on something, he leans backwards to lay flat on the bed again. You lose some of the pressure on your clit when you become entirely upright, hands no longer on Sy’s shoulders and neck for leverage anymore but down by your legs instead.
At the new angle, you start to slightly bounce instead of grind, and though you miss how it felt shallowly rubbing your entire pussy against him, it’s made better when Sy takes both of your hands in his and simply holds them while looking up at you and then down where you’re connecting. You clench your leg muscles and start truly riding him, mouth falling open. This is nice, too. This is so nice, too.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, c’mon,” he mumbles, staring all over your body in a daze. “Baby, you got no idea how good you look right now.”
You smile at him–or you try to. It could just be with your eyes. You’re glad Sy likes talking in bed–even if he just does it for your sake. The only difference between tonight and any other night is that whenever he speaks, it’s with a low, hushed whisper, making everything even more personal.
His hands move to the area around your hips, not touching but just hovering there. He stares at the spot your bodies are joining for a long time before throwing his head to the side then looking back up at your face. He sounds drunk when he lets out, “So lucky t’ have you like this.”
“Sy, oh my God,” you whine, and you say it because you can’t formulate anything else whatsoever to say, but what you mean is–you’re so fucking big, I feel so fucking good, I love you so fucking much.
You’re overwhelmed. This is too much. It’s all so much. It feels amazing, but it feels like you’re out of control. Your mouth is beard-burned and is letting out noises with every breath you take, and you can't even help it any longer–not the sounds themselves nor the volume of them. Your breasts are moving in a way that probably looks weird and your face probably looks screwed up, yet all you can do is just speed up even more.
“So fuckin’ lucky, baby, God.”
You try to keep yourself from outrightly keening in pleasure. “I'm–”
“You’re beautiful,” Sy utters while his eyes travel all over the place, mainly at your chest. “That’s whatchu are. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”
Your answer is a moan. You and Sy’s noises mix beautifully in symphony, his deep and low grunts and your higher-pitched whines and melodic moans. In between curses, Sy heavily pants. He’s looking at you with such an intense expression, reverent and heated and fucked-out all at once.
“Fuck, I can’t-” you curse when you feel your legs start tiring out. “Fuck.”
Sy's eyes turn wide, almost concerned. “I’m sorry–fuck, I can’t, Sy,” you tell him, slowing down and slightly wincing as your muscles burn.
“I gotchu,” he says while thrusting up now, matching your pace from a moment ago. You lean forward again and put one hand on the middle of his chest, and almost immediately, he grabs your forearm, having you falling on top of him entirely, tits smushing against his pecs.
“Oh, shit.”
“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he says as you lean your body to the left and start kissing and biting and sucking on Sy’s neck. “So good. You got no idea–”
Your forehead falls onto his neck, and you grip at any skin you can find as firmly as you can while you try to move as quickly as possible in rhythm with Sy, this time using your ass muscles to assist instead of your burning quads. You dig your knees into the mattress and rest the tops of your feet on Sy’s legs, and when you can’t keep your eyes open any longer, they close in bliss.
“Oh, fuck.” Fingers digging into your skin, Sy lets out a long grunt when you start moving quickly enough for your skin to slap together. “Oh, shit. ‘M gonna fuckin’ come if you don’t slow down.”
You open your eyes long enough to smile at him, biting your lower lip. That’s what you want. You want it so bad. He always makes you feel so good, and now you’re making him feel good–you’re feeling good together. If possible, you move quicker, practically riding just the tip of his dick at this point, all while keeping your upper body laying on his.
Sy smacks your ass. “Gonna come if you don’t quit,” he warns again, faster than he ever speaks.
The idea of stopping makes no sense, and despite the aches in your legs that you can still feel even using different muscles, your body just can’t do it. You can’t stop. You want him to come. You tell him so. “I want you to.”
The instant Sy physically grabs your hips to still you, you whine. “Y/N,” he warns through clenched teeth.
When he can, he always wants you to watch you finish first, and you get that’s why he’s being like this. But just because you won’t be coming first obviously doesn’t mean he can’t watch you just a minute later, so you give him bedroom eyes and say, “But it’s what I want, baby, please.”
Sy’s breathing gets more stifled when you start moving with frenetic purpose–bring him to climax, watch it all, feel it all. Because you feel some sort of power right now, and because his dirty talk has somewhat rubbed off on you, you put your mouth close to his ear while your pussy starts to ensconce his dick again. “It’s what I want,” you repeat while panting, “so I can make believe you’re comin’ inside me for real.”
“Fuck,” he lets out sharp and low as if being punched in the gut. “What–You–Y/N–”
Suddenly, you aren’t the one moving anymore; Sy’s holding you so tightly that you can’t. At all. It’s all him now, thrusting upwards so rapidly his balls slap against your asshole. His feet dig into the mattress as he continues fucking you, no momentum lost at all, just full-force thrusting into you while groaning the deepest and most desperate sounds against your throat.
You’ve never felt him move so fast. Even though you’re trying to hold off for at least another minute so you can watch him, you could come like this. The sliding, the wetness, the speed, the deep spot he keeps hitting–“Oh, my God, oh my fucking God, Sy. Ungh! Oh my God.”
“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” Sy rushes out in an urgent groan. “And you’re mine.”
“Sy–”
“All mine.”
“Yeah, yes, yes–”
You’re sweaty. You’re breathless. You’re taking an onslaught. If you thought your pussy was loud earlier, now it’s even more obscene, sounding like your ass is being spanked every single second. You clench and squeeze Sy's dick as tight as possible, feeling like you could explode at any time. “Syyy.”
“Gonna come in you, baby, fuck–Y/N, gonna come–”
You continue to take all the pleasure you can from Sy while he goes through some full-body experience, roughly making out, “I'm comin'," before every muscle in his body locks tight.
As he suddenly stops moving, you push yourself up a little to watch his face contort, keelhauled. His expression is ecstasy exemplified.
His fingers loosen from their strong grip on your ass, then all of his muscles follow suit until he’s melted back on the mattress. His head tilts backwards so you can see every ridge of his throat. His damp chest rises and falls with effort, beautifully pink.
Sy laid back sweaty and pussy-drunk is one of the best sights you think you’ve ever seen. Entranced, you watch every single movement he makes–his chest fully expanding and falling again, his arms twitching, the taut cords of muscle in his neck loosening. His controlled face washed in deep relaxation.
You both stay how you are for at least an entire minute, then he blinks open his heavy eyes and glances at you.
“Fuck,” he lets out while turning his face to the side, and you can read into the specific tone of it–it’s disbelief that his orgasm was that strong but frustration that he finished before you did.
You both breathe loudly for a while, then you experimentally roll your hips forward. When you roll them backwards, his soft cock accidentally slips out of you, and he curses again, slightly grumpy.
“Roll over,” he taps your leg and urges.
Your body is stiff and your brain is sluggish, so he has to tell you twice. “Roll over, Y/N, or I’ll do it myself.”
With shaky legs, you dismount and do as he asks, imagining for a second that if he’d really come inside you, it’d be leaking out onto your thighs right now.
The moment you’re on your back, Sy immediately sits up and moves in between your legs until he’s directly facing your pussy, breathing it in. You don’t care where the condom even went right now; it’s forgotten. You don’t care that he’s literally sniffing you right now.
You just made him come his brains out. You’re high just from that. You don’t care about anything else.
You push yourself backwards on the bed into a more comfortable position and bend your legs at the knees. On his stomach, Sy follows you hungrily. Spreading your pussy lips apart with fingers from both hands, he stares down at you.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters, and now that the frenzy from before has died down, you feel a little embarrassed. You can only imagine what you look like right now. Your breathing hitches when Sy starts to fucking blow warm air on your clit.
“You were right on the edge, weren’tchu?” he asks quietly, conversationally. The desperate edge to his voice is gone, replaced by something dirtier. “So close to comin’.”
With a fingernail in between your teeth to keep you from losing it altogether, you nod. “But I wanted to watch you. It was…it was really hot.”
Sy smirks. Then, without warning, he pushes your legs back until your knees are up by your face. You try to keep your feet from touching his shoulders, but it’s hard. After squirming for a bit, Sy ultimately touches one of your ankles to signal it’s okay for you to keep your feet there.
He leans up to kiss you–once, twice–but, with your hands on both sides of his face, you try to draw it out. When you’re both licking into each other’s mouths again, you move your lips and start sucking on his tongue. Sy bites your lower lip after that, and he smiles at you afterwards.
“Next time,” he promises before reaching two fingers down to your entrance. He draws little circles over your wetness then slides his fingers up your slit where all your nerve cells are firing off, all your blood still rushed there.
In an imitation of how you’d taken your time with him earlier, he just…enjoys you for a while. He touches you all over, again and again, just gentle touches in complete contrast to the frantic motions you’d shared just moments ago. Within minutes, your pussy is slick enough for wetness to trail down your ass crack.
“Next time, you know you’re comin’ on my dick,” he tells you without breaking eye-contact. “While you’re ridin’ me.”
Sy just barely slides a finger inside you, and you close your eyes with a gasp. “I–I was gonna.”
“I know you were,” he almost coos, removing his finger from your hole to go back to your clit again.
“Not just at the end, but like–” You squeeze your eyes shut.
These past few weeks, Sy’s encouraged you to discuss sex more than ever. And yeah, you sort of had to when the side effects of the anxiety medication you take finally decided to show up, making for a horribly embarrassing conversation about how sometimes you would be entirely ready and just…wouldn’t have the wetness to match it. Or…how afterwards, you wouldn’t be able to…
“I was close, like, when you were sittin’ up,” you quietly admit. “Like…with your hands on the bed. That was…That was good.”
He stares at you for a long moment. You shy away from the heated look for a minute, expecting him to ask, “Well, why didn’t you tell me?” but instead, with a gleam in his eyes, he says, “Me too. That’s why I had to lay back down again.”
To ward off all the awkwardness you’re feeling, you stick out your tongue. Sy obscenely licks it with his own right before pressing two fingers at once into you, and you sound out against his lips.
“Feels good?”
You nod, but you reach down to cover your clit with all your fingers at once. “Feels the best here.”
“Oh, I bet it does, sweetheart,” he says while moving your hand away from yourself.
Squinting your eyes at him, you almost glower. “Are you teasing me?”
Sy continues to steadily finger you, and his answer is in a kiss: he pushes his entire tongue into your mouth, slides his tongue along the entire length of yours, then reaches the end of it and starts circling and flicking it like he’d do if he were eating you out.
He does the thing with his tongue a few more times while his fingers continue to fuck into you, and wanting more, you tilt your hips upwards despite you already being angled the way you are. Sy doesn’t give in until you put your hand on the back of his head and breathlessly let out, “Please.”
“Oh, you beg so sweet, don’tchu.”
You're too horny to chide him for being like this; you simply nod with wide-eyes, and Sy lets out some groaning sound. Scooting down the bed and spreading your pussy lips open with two hands again, Sy just stares at you with his mouth dropped open, and you’re gonna die if he keeps this up. You weren’t this mean to him all.
But then he goes and says, “So sweet,” and then, “So good,” and if only he asked you to, you’d probably stay just like you currently are, frozen without moving for days, wanting only to be good for him. Wanting only for him to voice that you are.
Finally, finally, Sy presses his hot mouth onto your clit, licking over where you’re still pulsing, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Oh, fuck,” you harshly whisper. You’re so sensitive your legs instantly start to shake.
When you look down, you see Sy’s face slowly moving side to side, and then you feel him gently sucking. Almost involuntarily, your hips jump up against his tongue, against where he’s directly targeting that one spot that’s throbbing and aching, and then you start to grind against his mouth. It’s then he chooses to slide his fingers back inside you, pistoning them rhythmically, and–
“Oh,” you whimper. “Oh, that feels good. Sy, that feels really, really good.”
Your breathing gets heavier, louder, more urgent. It’s–It’s a lot. It’s a fucking lot. Your fingers twitch on top of Sy’s head, and you momentarily wish he had more hair for you to pull. He keeps groaning against your skin while his mouth makes smacking noises, and the vibrations from that along with everything else he’s doing–
“Sy, you’re gonna make me–SyI’mgonnacome,” you moan, the last word louder than the rest of your urgently spoken warning.
Horrifically, Sy pulls his face back and stills his fingers. “No, you’re not,” he states.
“Yes,” you breathe out while tilting your hips up again in vain, “I am.”
Sy goes back in. When he starts flicking his tongue, your eyes roll in the back of your head, and your toes curl against his shoulders. “You’re gonna wait,” he mumbles against you. Then he kisses there, wide and sloppy, slurping before sucking, using so much tongue you can hear it.
“Syyy–fuck.”
“You can do that,” he pulls his face up again and says, almost sweetly. He takes his fingers out of your pussy and briefly sticks them in his mouth. After he slides them out, he murmurs, “You can wait a li’l longer for me.”
“God,” you moan, voice high-pitched while your hips start to twitch again. Sy firmly presses your hips down to the mattress. “But I don’t want to.”
“You can wait,” Sy repeats himself.
Swallowing thickly, you shake your head while staring down at him in desperation. You could come from him running his beard on you at this point. He’s being cruel by leaving you right on the edge only to keep taking it away. Repeatedly.
Sy’s calm when he glances up at you. “You're gonna be good and wait. Just like you did on my dick.”
Your legs quiver until your knees knock together. When you meet his gaze in the dark room, he gives you a knowing look–he’d said the word. Good. Damn him, but you want to be good. You always just want to be good.
“Then you need to stop,” you urgently get out.
“Okay, baby,” he says, leaning back a little before pressing two fingers inside you at once. He slowly sinks them in and then out again, and the glide is perfect. “Just this, then.”
His fingers are great, but you begin to squirm. You want something back on your clit, too. It actually has its own heartbeat now. Not able to hold it back, you whine again.
“Shh. You got to play with me. Now it’s my turn.” He gives you a gentle smile and even a wink. “Maybe you can make my arm all wet again.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Sy takes out his index and middle fingers and goes back to fingering you with his middle and ring finger. “Here we go,” he mutters to himself, moving a little to get a better angle. “This is whatchu like.”
He fingers you a little faster than before, alternating between delving in and out of your pussy and then just staying buried inside and vibrating his fingers somehow. You put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming.
“Please,” you let out, muffled behind your hand.
His index finger and pinky are splayed out, angling downwards towards your ass. His thumb is jutting upwards, begging to be used, and if he were to just–drop it, then you could fucking–
“Hm?”
“Please,” you repeat yourself, but your voice is still imperceptible.
He kisses the inside of your leg. “Please what, baby?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck. “Please–” you say, wanting him to just read your mind. “More.”
Sy’s fingers start to move urgently, squelching now. “Faster?” he asks.
He knows what the fuck he’s doing. You slide a hand down your stomach and then lower, touching your aching clit to get relief, but Sy moves it away instantly.
You honest-to-God pout. “You’re bein’ mean,” you whine. “Are you doin’ this because you wanted me to come first and I didn’t?”
“Doin’ what?” Sy asks against your folds. “I’m just tryin’ to make you feel good, baby.”
“Well, it hurts.”
Sy is quiet, apparently waiting until you look down and make eye contact with him, and when you do, your eyes are pained, your face scrunched up. His fingers are still jutting in and out of you.
“What hurts?” He lowers his mouth to your clit and keeps his eyes on yours as he finally starts to lick there again. “This where it hurts?”
You frantically nod and watch as he does it again. It’s perfect. It’s fucking perfect. You hum. His fingers are touching some spot inside you that feels connected to your clit or something, like it’s just one giant interconnected pleasure spot.
“Am I makin’ it better?” he asks, and you don’t care that he’s being cocky; you instantly nod.
Your hands move to the backs of your bent knees and stay there while Sy’s mouth and his fingers expertly work in tandem, just building everything that was already overflowing earlier higher and higher and higher. With every frantic glide of his fingers, it’s more, and with every forceful thrust of them, it’s more, and with every curve of his fingertips against the spongy parts of your upper walls, it’s more.
“Oh, God, Sy, it’s so fuckin’ good.” As you pant, each exhale is a whiny moan.
“This’s why you didn’t come first,” Sy backs away and quietly muses, sucking your clit lazily in between sentences.
“Huh?”
“Needed me to touch you here, hm?”
You squeeze your eyes shut and writhe your head to the side.
“That it?” he asks.
You thought you’d be getting what you wanted. You thought he was done with taking the breaks to talk and be mean. “I don’t–Sy, I don’t–”
Sy lowers his mouth again. Each lapping brush of his tongue to your clit adds even more to the already insanely-high sensations, making everything topple over since it’s so much, and it’s so out of your control that you have no option but to succumb to it. You’re gonna come. You’re so close. If he’d just–
“When you ride me again, you’re gonna have to lean back and not forward, ain’tchu?”
You don’t know how to even visualize what he’s even saying. You can't make sense of any words, actually. You just keep feeling what he does in between talking to you. His mouth is fucking making smacking sounds as he gets sloppier and sloppier, and you're so so so fucking close.
“You’ll have to put your feet on the bed, won’tchu,” he goes on. “Hands back on the bed, too. Or my legs.”
You grow to be louder, making these high-pitched nng sounds that are obscene and out of control. Responding to your noises, Sy just moves his tongue and his fingers even faster. After long moments pass without him talking at all, you’re so fucking glad he’s done teasing you. You’re so close. All your muscles are taut and ready for release to wash over you.
But he’s not done. He slows down his fingers and removes his mouth from you, too. “Then I’ll be able to see you here.”
Sy taps your clit with just his index finger. Your hips jerk upward, and your muscles start quivering.
“Then I’ll be able to touch you here,” he whispers, circling his finger atop the little nub. “And then I’ll get to watchu come on my cock.”
You’re so shaky you can’t keep still, but Sy puts his free hand on your stomach to make you. Looking down at him, your eyes twist up like they do when you’re about to cry.
“Please,” you mouth.
“Okay, baby, shh,” he murmurs.
“Please,” you say again, and you’re not above begging like this. “Really?”
“I gotchu,” he promises. “You've been good.”
You look him in the eye and finally see that he’s earnestly done talking to you, done teasing you, so you lay back and just feel, having the telepathic knowledge that everything you’re experiencing right now won’t be taken away anymore, that this is it, that he wants to make and watch you come now, that even though you aren’t coming on his dick, this is just as good–coming into his mouth.
The speed Sy returns to so quickly takes you aback and leaves you breathless. His fingers are practically pistoning, his mouth keeping time. He’s been keeping you on the edge, and now he’s taking you right there and beyond. He’s touching you like he owns you. His free hand stays gently pressing down on your lower stomach.
You’ve been moaning non-stop this entire time, but as your orgasm actually takes over, you let out a long, quivering, non-stop whine of various pitches. “I’mgonnnacomeI’mgonna comeI’mgonnacome,” you frantically get out, like Sy wouldn’t be able to tell by how tightly you’re clenching his fingers.
You can feel your pussy squeezing while spasming and somehow getting even more wet, and you can’t stop yourself from pushing your feet against Sy’s shoulders to give you leverage to roll your hips upward.
“Oh God, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you let out non-stop, gripping the blanket underneath you. “Fuck!”
Sy doesn’t slow down. You moan with each breath.
Rhythmically, you ride it all out, and Sy lets you rub yourself up and down on his tongue and mouth and beard, and everything feels like it lasts forever. It’s not just quick and satisfying; it’s long and all-encompassing.
Your hips won’t stop thrusting upwards. “Ahh, oh my God, Sy, baby, please–oh my God–fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Of all places to be this loud, it’s a hotel room, but you can’t help yourself. Adding to your cacophony of sounds, Sy groans against you the entire time. Gradually, your noises die down in urgency and in volume when the rubber band of ecstasy snaps, and everything in your body loosens and relaxes in relief and bliss and pulsing, though you won’t stop twitching for some reason. You have to tap Sy’s head several times to get him to back off a little.
Over-stimulated now, you lower your ass to the mattress and notice your legs sporadically shaking. They’re sore, so you stretch them out over Sy’s back. Sy doesn’t move his face from between them at all, but he finally slides his fingers out of you so he can use both hands to run up and down your thighs bracketing his face. Instead of moving up the bed to lay beside you, though, Sy stays right where he is and drops his mouth to tongue at your entrance.
You’re still so sensitive that your hips jump at that. “Sy,” you weakly get out. You try to squirm backwards, but Sy’s hell-bent on keeping you still now. He holds your legs in place while tasting everything that’s pooled out of you, and you're helpless to move away.
When he finally lifts his head, you can see his lips glistening even in the dim light of the room, and it should be crass, but it’s not. There’s an eroticism to all of this that shrouds an underlying romanticism. Like as long as it’s you two together, nothing’s bad and everything’s beautiful.
The position you’ve been in while Sy ate you out was about as dirty as you could possibly get, and despite your filthy moans and back-and-forth teasing, nothing was wrong about any of it. Nothing was wrong about tonight at all.
You and Sy stare at one another in the semi-darkness, both breathing heavily. You’re not gonna cry after sex or anything, but your orgasm was so insane that you feel like you easily could.
You want him to hold you.
“God damn.” You let out a giant sigh and keep your face slack and awed. “Fuck.”
Several seconds later, you feel Sy lifting your legs from his shoulders and setting them back down. Surprising you, he leans forward to kiss you, and with a slow intensity, he holds your jaw. He cradles your face so reverently that you feel almost precious for a moment, all the while tasting sweetness on his tongue.
You brush your fingertips through his chest hair while you start lazily making out, both too sated for the kisses to turn into anything more–just kissing for the sake of it. Your lips are going to hurt tomorrow.
With you both now laying entirely horizontally, Sy runs his hands all over your body anew. You only stop kissing when you lose all energy to do a single thing.
“Oh, my God, Sy, I’m dead,” you whisper. “This is my grave.”
Sy looks at you and chuckles, and then you look at him and chuckle, and then–the spell slightly breaks. The heaviness between you both goes away, and the air in the room turns back to normal, cooler. You both stretch and lay beside one another in the afterglow for a while, happy to not do a single thing but cuddle and come down from everything.
Sy kisses the top of your head. His voice is just as quiet as it’s always been when he says, “I love you.”
Sunshine warms your entire body, and you bask in it, nuzzling yourself more into his side. “I love you.”
“I really fuckin’ love you.”
Curiously, you lift your head and look at him, and his expression is normal, but a little on the side of smugness again. You stare at each other for a long time before you smile. “Who wouldn’t?”
That earns you getting tickled, which you have a love/hate relationship with, and you grin. “I really, really love you, too,” you reply, reaching out to pull his chest hair to get him to stop tickling you.
When you start getting cold, rather than go under the blankets, you curl up against Sy and rest your head on his bicep. Looking up at his face, you notice his eyes are closed, but he’s not sleeping. You trace the line of his nose with a finger. He’s so handsome. He’s so fucking handsome.
Sy winks one eye open and observes you. “You look happy,” he comments.
“I am.” You lazily smile. “I’d be havin’ a cigarette right now if I smoked.”
Sy grins, all self-satisfied and pleased. His gaze lingers on you.
You place a hand on top of his chest and start playing with the hair dusting it. “Sy, that was…”
You can’t come up with any words, and Sy fills in your silence. He holds out a hand palm-down and makes a wobbly motion with it. “Just so-so, huh?”
“Shut up,” you say without any malice whatsoever.
You think you’re going to remember tonight for the rest of your life. It was that good. But–
“You were evil, by the way,” you’re sure to mention.
The side of Sy’s mouth curves upwards. “Baby, I live to see how many ‘oh fucks’ I can get outta you.”
You lightly slap his chest and look away, embarrassed. You feel his fingers on your chin within seconds. Expecting him to say something about how you should never feel embarrassed with him, you reluctantly meet his eyes, but when you do, he’s silent. Still, his eyes say it all, anyway: he loves you, and that extends to your bad-mouth in bed.
After you go awhile without talking, just blankly staring at the ceiling, Sy sprawls his entire hand out on top of your stomach. “What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours?”
You’ve stopped rolling your eyes when he asks that. You can’t help yourself from burrowing your head into his neck, though.
“Just…That was really good.”
“It always is with you.”
“It always is with you,” you counter, then tease: “You shoulda taken pictures.”
Sy freezes. You've only ever consented to him taking pictures sometimes. It’s the first time you’ve really initiated talking about the pictures. Without speaking any further, you both just gaze at one another, then go back to quietly cuddling.
Eventually, you and Sy disentangle, and you sit up and turn on the television. Naked, Sy gets up and shamelessly strolls to the bathroom, and he leaves the door open while he pees. You roll your eyes at the noise but still look at him fondly when he walks back into the room, phone now in his hands and soft dick swinging below it. He stands by the bed and keeps looking down at the screen.
He’s fully invested in whatever he’s reading, so you take the time to slide out of bed and get some clothes on. You’re in the middle of getting dressed in loose sleep-pants and a t-shirt when Sy crouches beside his own bag of stuff to dig out a pair of boxers. Even as he reaches out to throw away the used condom that’s laying on the carpet–gross–he’s still intently looking at his phone.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you ask curiously. “Everything okay?”
After Sy slides on his underwear, he pulls the bedsheets back and gets in bed. You follow suit, and he shows you the screen of his phone after switching on a table lamp.
Your eyes dart around the screen and try to make sense out of the list of multiple websites you’re suddenly looking at. Oh. He’s researching restaurants nearby. “What, you’re hungry?”
He gives you a look. “That food at your dad’s won’t nearly enough for you,” he says, “so I’m gonna pick you up somethin’ else.”
“Oh, babe,” you say, both touched and excited at once. “That’s so sweet.”
Sy’s eyes are just as bright as yours when you look at him. “I like when you say that.”
You just look down. “I really am hungry, actually,” you admit. “I’m glad that I ate so much at my mom’s house, but I really should’ve taken those freakin’ leftovers she offered.”
Still trying to look at his phone and figure out what’s nearby, Sy asks, “What kinda fast-food do they got around here with stuff you can eat?”
“I’m not sure. There’s a couple restaurants nearby.”
Sy makes some noise and then starts getting fully dressed –not for bed, but to go out.
You squint your eyes at him. “What are you doin’?”
Sy looks at the hotel door. “Gonna getchu food, like I said.”
“We can do delivery so you don’t have to go out.”
“...They got that here?”
You grin. “Yeah, Sy. We’re in town-town,” you remind him.
Sy leans back onto his collection of pillows while you go get your own phone and open the delivery app.
Wait. If he chooses his food after you do, that means he’ll probably go forward with putting in his debit card information and paying for it all.
“Actually,” you say, giving him your phone, “you choose first. I gotta go to the bathroom to, like…clean up and stuff. I'll pick something when I'm back.”
With a poorly attempted wink, Sy takes your phone.
In the bathroom, you honestly should probably take another shower because you’ve been sweating, but you wash your face and clean up all other areas you need to while telling yourself you'll just shower in the morning. While taking out your contacts, Sy’s voice calls out through the room.
“Hey, babe, your momma just texted.”
“What’d she say?” you raise your voice and ask.
“Dunno.”
You stick your head out of the doorframe. “Well, read it,” you chuckle.
A second later, Sy says, “Wants to know if I liked her food.”
You walk out of the bathroom and make your way to the bed. “Who, like you specifically?”
“Yeah.”
You sit down and scoot until you’re next to him again. “Tell her you thought it was horrible.”
Sy reaches out and pushes your arm lightly. “It’s interesting she’s askin’,” he says while handing the phone back to you. “I made sure to tell her everything was good ‘bout three times ‘fore we left.”
“Well, that’s my mom for you,” you mutter. “She’s gonna worry about the same stuff again and again until she hears the same response, like, ten times.”
When you look up from your phone, Sy gives you a look that’s non-judgmental yet knowing. You glance away.
After replying to your mom, you add food to your delivery order, pay for everything, then click through the television channels for something mindless to turn on.
You and Sy half-sit/half-lay side by side with pillows behind your back while choosing a documentary to watch, and half an hour later, you’re still in the same position–only with boxes of food in your laps. From time to time, Sy takes his plastic fork and puts it up to your mouth to share with you, and you do the same to him.
Finally full and satiated, you cuddle close to Sy and close your eyes, starting to be lulled to sleep by just matching his breathing. He turns off the bedside lamp but stays awake, and the British narrator’s voice from whatever documentary is playing becomes fainter and fainter when, somewhere in the background, the loud heating unit clicks on.
As your breathing gets heavy and rhythmic, you know you're probably at risk of drooling on your pillow, so you turn over so your back is against Sy's figure. He rests a loose hand on your hip, and you feel its weight remain constant until you finally drift off to sleep.
-O-
The following morning, you head down to the continental breakfast alone to get good coffee and fruit for yourself and sausage and bacon for Sy. Behind your glasses, your eyes are slanted with sleep, and while still being presentable, you’re wearing loose-fitting and lazy-looking clothes.
Robotically, you wait in the long line and take tiny step after tiny step as people ahead of you go through warming up their bagels and choosing which cereals they want and debating over orange juice or apple juice and just all-around being too damn loud.
You’re zoning out in line when two lively couples queue up behind you and start talking in one large group, and they’re so loud that you're not able to ignore them at all. Somewhat grumpy, you frown.
“How’d y’all sleep?” the man in the back asks the couple closest to you.
The lady beside the guy–his wife?--just looks at the guy–her husband?--and laughs. You take a small step ahead in line and try not to eavesdrop though it’s pretty much impossible. People that talk this loud in public spaces are basically inviting it.
“What’s so funny?” the man in the back asks.
The guy won’t answer, but the woman offers up, “We got a free show last night.”
The man in back scoops some eggs onto his plate. “What’s that mean?”
“Whoever stayed next door to us,” the guy nearest you mutters as he shuffles up the line, “was so loud I couldn't get to sleep. Could hear them over the TV.”
The man in back says, “Loud like…” but that's all you hear before there's some light laughter.
“I always tell you to bring a fan or a white noise machine on these trips, Adam,” the lady says.
“Well, sorry, Jessica,” the guy directly behind you replies, “but for some reason I wasn’t expecting this hotel to be filming porn this weekend.”
Staring at the counter, your eyes turn into saucers.
A/N: Written for Sexy September Scribbles. September 19: “you’re so fucking tight...gripping me like a vice”
A/N2: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.
Syverson wasted no time getting you to bed. He'd been dreaming of being back in your arms for months while he was serving overseas and he was hungry for you.
Despite warming you up by making you cum on his tongue and his fingers, his cock was still a little difficult to take. He made your cunt stretch with a pleasurable burn that turned you into a brainless, needy slut.
"Damn, Honey," Sy grunts as he pistons into your cunt. "You're so fucking tight...gripping me like a vice."
"The better to make me fall apart on your cock," you tease breathlessly.
"Probably shoulda warmed you up more but I've missin' you so bad." He pins your hands to the headboard with one of his hands as he brings himself down to kiss you. "Fuck, I'm so needy for ya. I don't know how much longer I can hold back."
"I bet you'd fit better if I was on my stomach," you wink.
He growls at the thought. "But then I wouldn't get to see your pretty face. Those eyes that make me melt into a puppy. Wouldn't get to see you go dumb as you cream around my cock."
You let out a whimper as your pussy clenches again. "Always so romantic," you smile at him.
Attn: I know I said I wasn’t writing this week, but my sister’s gone home and I had the time. Apparently I was bored and maybe a little horny sooo enjoy the smut lol.
Word Count: 1, 926
Pairing: Sy x Reader
Summary: You and Sy have your first time.
Warnings: 18+, Sy’s massive cock, nipple play, oral (female receiving of course), overstimulation, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, p in v sex, multiple creampies, after care, some fluff
You hadn’t been dating Sy but a few months, but you just knew he was it. He was all the things you could ever want. Smart, sweet, and sexy. Which brought you to this point. You’d been so hot for him the last few dates the two of you had, but you weren’t sure if he was feeling the same.
Tonight gave you all the conformation you could ever need though. When he’d leaned over and whispered that you looked good enough to eat with a low growl in his voice, making your body flame with arousal. When he brought you home you kissed him hard, and he caught on quick. Big, calloused hands roaming over your body.
“Darlin’ if I’m not mistaken I think you might want me,” he drawled against your lips with a smirk. “I do, Sy. So bad,” you nearly whined. “Open the door baby. I’ll give you what you want,” he said before pecking your lips. You eagerly unlocked the door before he was back on you, squeezing and kneading every inch of flesh he could get his hands on.
“Come on,” you said, taking him by the hand and bringing him to your room. He skillfully undressed you, you only having taken his shirt off so far. He tossed you up on the bed with a grin before shucking his pants off and advancing on you. He kissed you breathless, before leaning back to take you in.
“Just beautiful,” he said as his hands roamed over your body. When he reached your thighs you sat up and began pushing his boxer briefs off. When you saw his manhood you sat back wide eyed. He was thick. So ungodly thick. You’d thought those “thick as my forearm” cocks were only real in romance novels but here he was hard, uncut, and so unbelievably thick your heart jumped up into your throat.
“What’s wrong baby?,” he asked, softly caressing your face. “How’s that supposed to fit in me?,” you nearly whispered. “It’ll fit darlin’. You were made for it, for me,” he breathed. The sentiment washed over you. He felt the same about you as you did him. “I— I…,” you stammered. “I love you too baby. I’d never hurt you,” he told you. “Okay,” you nodded, trying to mentally prepare yourself for this.
“Lay back again and relax,” he cooed. He hovered over you, kissing your lips before letting his body meet yours. The feeling of all his coarse hair against your skin sent a tingle through your body. He kissed your jaw then your neck, before making his way to your breasts. He pushed them together and began absolutely laving your nipples. He didn’t stop until you were begging because they were throbbing and oversensitive. “Ahhh. Sy please. Mmmm. Can’t take anymore,” you blabbered.
He gave you a cheeky grin before kissing down your body, on the inside of your thighs, and on your hard little clit. You jumped at first contact. Little did you know, that was only the beginning. “Ain’t that a sight,” he rasped as he regarded your slick cunt. “So pretty,” he murmured, before licking a stripe up it. He then moved up to your clit, alternating between licking and sucking at it expertly.
You’d been given oral before but nothing came close to this. He was so good that he had you coming within minutes, but he didn’t let up. “Sy,” you cried out, trying to pushing him away. “Now darlin’ you gotta let me get you ready, huh?,” he said before licking your clit once more. He ran his hands up your body soothingly then squeezed your breasts. He kissed your clit again before slipping one finger through your slit and sliding it in.
“Ah yeah. You’re so tight baby. Gonna have to take a little more so it’ll be good for you once I slide my cock in. You still want it dontcha?,” he asked. “Yes,” you shuddered as he started sliding his finger in and out. “Good girl. Just relax baby. I’ve got you,” he encouraged. He put his mouth back to your sex and began lapping at you gently in time with his strokes to your soaked cunt. You were almost embarrassed by all the wet sounds coming from your pussy, but it didn’t take long for that to pass.
“I can feel you squeezin’ me darlin’. Let me have it,” Sy then said. “Ooooh,” you keened as your second orgasm washed over you. “Mmhmm,” he hummed before nearly sliding his finger all the way out. “Wh—,” you began before he pushed it back in with a second finger. “Fuck,” you whimpered while grabbing your breasts. “You’re doin’ so good,” he says before sucking on your clit harshly.
This time he went a little harder on you, sending you onto an orgasm that was absolutely toe curling. “Please fuck me Sy,” you said, nearly hysterical. “One more time,” he said, adding a third finger. He rocked them into you while thumbing at your clit with his left hand. He watched you writhe and claw at the sheets before your back bowed off the bed. This time you started gushing everywhere. “Ahhh fuuuck,” you screamed when he pulled his fingers out and quickly rubbed them over your swollen clit. “Fuck is right. Fuckin’ sexy as hell,” he panted before lapping up your slick.
“Please…,” you said as you looked up at him. He lined up with you, rubbing his cock head through your wet folds. “Nice and slow, alright?,” he said. You nodded feebly, waiting for him to start feeding his behemoth cock into your pussy. He pushed a few inches in, then thrusted into you just like that. He continued this until he was balls deep. You watched his eyes roll back as he hovered over you. His jaw ticked as he got used to the feeling of how tight you were.
“Goddamn,” he huffed before sliding out then back in slowly. “I’m gonna cum,” you strained. “Already darlin’? Must feel good,” he said proudly. “‘M so f— full,” you managed before your pussy started gushing again. You clung to him, riding it out, until it stopped. After you were absolutely shaking.
“Do I need to stop baby? Are you okay?,” he asked worriedly. “N— no. I need it harder Sy. Please. Fuck me harder,” you begged. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied. “Please,” you said softly as you looked up at him. He couldn’t tell you no. He was never able to. Instead, he wrapped you up in his arms and started pounding into you. You bucked against him, loving the way he felt inside you, all around you.
“That whatcha needed baby? God you feel so fuckin’ good. Cock’s never been this hard,” he told you. “Yes. Yes. Y— eeeesss,” you cried out as you came once again. Sy pulled out and rubbed his cock all over your clit before moving you to the side of the bed, in front of your mirror. He put his chest to your back before sliding back in.
“Look at that. See. Told you that you were made for me,” he said, cupping your chin so you’d look forward. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he then said, caressing your body. He held you tight as the two of you locked eyes and he began throttling you. You moaned nonsensically, unable to control yourself, and you realized Sy was moaning right along with you. “Drivin’ me crazy. Look how good my cock looks goin’ in your pussy baby. Fuckin’ pretty pussy swallowing me down. I’m so fuckin’ close. Need you to come with me,” he huffed.
You hadn’t imagined Sy would be so vocal, but damn if it wasn’t turning you on. You watched as your pussy squirted clear across the room and onto the mirror. “That’s my girl. I’m gonna fill this pretty pussy right up baby. I’m—,” he said before he broke off into a moan. Your cunt strained further with the stretch of his tightening cock. Sy curled into you, groaning into your neck while fondling your breast and rubbing at your clit. “So good,” he slurred as he began to spill.
When he finished he was still so hard that he slid out of your pussy with a pop. He laid you back on the bed, pushing your thighs up, for a look at the mess he’d made. He had a satisfied grin on his face as he placed his cock on your clit and began jerking himself. “Give it back to me,” you pouted. “Gonna make you sore darlin. J— just,” he stammered as he felt another orgasm building. “No,” you huffed before sitting up and pushing him back.
“What’s this now?,” he chuckled. “I said I want it back,” you said before kissing his lips and lining yourself up. You slid easily down his cock, being soaked in the both of your cum. Your thighs shook a bit from the overstimulation but you didn’t care. You still wanted him, and you knew he was being a gentleman not wanting to make you sore but at the moment you weren’t worried about that.
You leaned back, putting yourself on display for him before sliding up and down his cock. “Shit,” he groaned before grabbing your hips. He helped you bounce up and down and nearly came on the spot when you started touching yourself. “You like that?,” you teased, having felt how his cock jumped inside you. “I like all of this baby. Fuck why did we wait so long?,” he said. “I don’t kn- know,” you said between gasps.
Unexpectedly Sy started snapping his hips up, giving it to you faster. You couldn’t help but soak him down in cum as you cried out. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted right before his entire body went rigid and he exploded inside of you. He shuddered with his last few strokes as you collapsed on his chest. The both of you were slick, sweaty messes but well satisfied.
When you finally found the strength to lean up you cupped his face in your hands. “I love you so much, you know that?,” you asked, emotion overwhelming you. “I sure do, and I hope you know I love you that much more darlin’. Makes me ache, but it gives me life all at the same time,” he admitted. With tears in your eyes you lean down and kiss him tenderly.
Finally he sits up, still kissing you softly. “I think we should have a rinse in the shower then maybe an epsom salt bath, huh? Help out with any soreness,” he said. “Sounds good to me,” you replied.
He helped you to the bathroom, cleaned you gently then ran a bath for the two of you. You sat in his lap, resting your cheek against his furry chest as he rubbed your back. You’re nearly asleep when you feel his chest rumbling with laughter. “What’s funny?,” you mumbled. “Nothin’ darlin’. Tell me where your spare sheets are and I’ll make the bed so we can sleep,” he then said. You do so and let him help you out of the bath.
By time you’d dried off and dealt with your hair he was done. “Come on,” he said, pulling you into the bed. You lay next to him, tucked tight into his chest listening to his heartbeat when he speaks. “Goodnight darlin. I love you,” he says softly. “I love you too Sy,” you replied with a sleepy smile.
