AN: This was written at 3 am when I absolutely could not go back to sleep. Had this idea come to me last week and it stayed in my head until last night when I finally decided to just let it all out. It might be a little rushed, but I get too hung up on details and trying to make use of flowery language even though I struggle with it, so take what I have and I hope you enjoy it.
Summary: Captain Syverson comes home to a hot (literally) wife? One sentence summaries and titles are not my forte. .
You ended the call on your phone and your giddyness could not be contained. You shot up from your seat and began to dance around, Aika eventually getting up from her dog bed to join in on your celebration.
"No, girl, down," you tell the dog after it jumped up, putting its paws on your chest. You kneeled down and Aika sat down beside you then laid down. "I have a baby in my tummy. You're gonna need to be careful now."
You laughed at yourself for talking to a dog, despite your husband doing it all the time. After giving Aikia a belly rub and kisses, you grab your phone.
"Call me, baby," you say, thinking of your husband, Captain Chase Syverson. You knew there was a slim chance of that happening. He left you alone two weeks ago for a month long field training. You were at the halfway point and hoped he'd sneak a call in. Who were you kidding though? As much as your husband probably missed you as much as you missed him, he took his job seriously. As captain, he was always setting the example for his team. The only time you'd get a phone call was the second training was done and he'd be on his way home. Sighing, you finally got up to start your day, making sure to keep your phone close at hand, just in case.
It was nearing noon and you were in a bad mood. The past few days you hadn't been able to decide what to eat. If you weren't feeling nauseated from morning sickness, you had no appetite. When you finally could decide on what to eat, your stomach almost immediately didn't agree, sending you rushing to the bathroom to vomit everything out. To add to that, your body temperature just seemed out of whack. Before finding out you were pregnant, you were always cold. Even during the hottest Texas days when Sy would blast the A/C, you'd be wearing sweats and hoodie, sometimes even wrapping yourself in a blanket. But now, it seemed your body didn't know how to feel. You'd already stripped off your sweats and sweater half a dozen days whenever your body temperature seemed to spike up. An hour later, you'd be cold again prompting you to redress yourself.
Right now, you were on the couch, hungry and (currently) hot. The only thing you were looking forward to was Sy coming home. Despite not hearing from him yet, you banked on him coming home later on in the afternoon. You already had chosen an outfit to wear to go out to dinner. Now all you had to do was wait. With Aika curled up beside you and taking up the other half of the couch, you propped your feet on the coffee table and settled back as you closed your eyes. The blaring of one of Sy's favorite songs immediately got you up.
"Hi baby!" you cried answering the phone.
"Hey, sweetheart," came Sy's voice, dripping with the southern drawl that you just love. "I missed ya."
"I missed you, too."
"Look, we just got done with training. We're just getting our gear packed then we gotta wait on the busses."
Your little bubble of positivity slowly deflated.
"What time are you expecting to be home then?" you interrupted. Sy's sigh at the end popped whatever was left of your positive bubble
"Not till late, darlin'."
"Okay," you replied, trying not to let your disappoint be heard. You felt tears well up.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do much to hurry up the damned busses. But I'll make it up to you later," the last part he said in a whisper, yet it did nothing to raise your spirits.
---
You groaned as you turned over in bed, feeling the damp shirt cling to your skin. You were sweating! Begrudgingly, you got up to check the thermostat: 66 degrees. You pressed the button a couple times to lower the temp even more. Then you went back to your room, turning on the ceiling fan as well before stripping down to your boy shorts. You took off your pajama shirt and threw on a light camisole. Climbing into bed, you moved around the many pillows you had, ending up on Sy's side of the bed where it felt cooler. Tossing and turning a few more times, you finaly found a comfortable position, on your side with one leg peaking out of the blankets and resting over a pillow. You were drifting off to sleep when Aika let out a bark before barrelling out of your bedroom. The familiar sound of Sy's boots hitting the floorboards reached your ears, but you refused to get up. Aika let out another bark before being shushed by Sy.
"Mama's sleeping," you heard him say. The word 'mama' brought butterflies to your stomach and your hand immediately rested on your still small belly. You listened as Sy moved around, the familiar sound of him removing his uniform and boots, then the dangling of his dogtags. He headed straight to the shower, which you were thankful for. You didn't think you could stomach the smell of your husband who went without a shower for the duration of his field training. Your eyes were slowing closing again and you were half asleep when you felt a pair of big strong arms wrap around you. You turned around and Sy's lips were already on yours, his beard tickling you in the process. You broke away from the kiss, your body heating up again. You tried to wriggle out of his hold.
"What?" he asked, a small pout on his lips.
"Sy, it's hot," you say, pushing at his chest.
"Sweetheart, it's like an ice chest in here! Plus you got the fan going and you're practically naked!"
"And yet, it's still hot!"
"You're never hot," Sy said. "Are you getting sick? You feeling okay?"
You laughed as Sy started feeling your forehead and your neck for a temperature.
"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing the tears in your eyes. He used his thumb to wipe a tear away.
"Sy," you began. You brought your hands to his face, looking into his bright blue eyes that you so love. "I'm pregnant."
You waited for a reaction. You actually counted the seconds before any reaction came from your tough husband. Fifteen seconds.
"Y-you're pregnant? We're having a baby?" he asked, his eyes wide. You nod. He brought you back into his arms. You heard sniffling and felt something wet on the crook of your neck. You pull back enough to look at your husband's face.
What would happen if you are his girlfriend and you guys are fighting and he says something either nasty or rude and you get angry and slap him? How would August and Captain Sylverson react to have his girlfriend slapping him?
Okay... I’m game... You got me on a horny day...
Quick warnings so I don’t get burnt on the stake (Oh I will anyway): Explicit smutty content, graphic depiction of sex, mentions of BDSM, slapping, public sex, unprotected sex, manhandling, MaleDom, angry-sex, lots of bodily fluids and everything else the inquisition hates.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of it. Please don't add your additions or spin-offs to my existing story
August is easy, I mean he's just waiting for the opportunity for things to go BDSM. He has a mouth on him, so you know 99% of the time she'll just want to slap him for saying something outrageously nasty. The moment it happens, he spins her over and forces her on his knees, smacking her ass and her pussy until she's red and squirting.
But then, Sy. He's a possessive bear, and his woman knows it, might also kinda like it. But here is the thing, she's slightly deprived of attention because he's gone most of the time and the longing makes her act out and be that bad girl. She deliberately wears those tight, above-the-knees skirts.
Sy doesn't mind, he likes it that everyone gets to see how hot his babygirl is, and he does love staring at that ample ass. But then she flirts with other guys while he is catching up with his mates, getting herself drinks for free and playing with the locks of her hair while the big bear is flaring.
"Hold my beer" he growls and gets on his feet, marching toward that chap and tapping on his shoulders.
"That's my woman you're talking to."
She's sipping on her Cosmo and nodding admittedly at the poor guy who's already sweating. Though Sy is anything but amused. Giving a glare, he pulls her outside, bringing her to the alleyway. He squares his broad shoulders and pushes his puffed chest against hers, looking down at her with fury.
"Think this funny?"
"Anything to get some attention from you" she replies and presses her lips.
"I was talkin' to my friends, haven't seen them in ages, you don't need to be so clingy" he rolls his eyes.
"Oh, I'm clingy?... do I need to remind you how 16 hours ago you were crying on my chest about how much you missed me."
That comment hits hard, Sy doesn't like being reminded of how emotional and cheesy he gets after having an intense orgasm. Especially when he hasn't seen his woman in months.
"So that's what you're up to while I'm gone? Going to bars begging for attention while dressing and looking like a whore? Should I be worried about picking up an STD from you now?"
Thwack!
Sy's cheek still faces to the side while the slap echos between the narrow space. A red imprint slowly forms between the coarse hairs of his beard.
It would have been safer to tug on a lion's tail.
The captain turns his head back to stare at her, his tongue darting at the tiny cut in his lip, licking the blood off. A growl rumbles in his chest, and he frowns. Another noise reverberates through the alley only this time it's her terrified yelp. Hardly understanding how she's backed against the wall with her legs wrapped around his wide waist. His mouth is burning on hers while eager hands make a tattered mess of her panties.
"Fuck it, I'm going bareback this time," he announces while unbuckling his belt quickly
Sy's thick cock stretches her in with no preparation, making room for himself forcefully while he grunts in her ear.
"You want it rough like a back alley whore?" he warns, rutting into her back and forth vigorously while she cries and claws on his shoulders. He is so large and heavy, pressing her to the wall, his pelvis slamming her with every thrust, accompanied by the dangling sounds of his belt.
She shuts her eyes, muffling her moans into his neck. She can hear people passing by, scrutinizing them as they fuck savagely against the wall.
"Who does this pussy belong to?" He rasps, pressing one hand to the side of her head while the other squeezes between the cheeks of her ass.
"Yours! It's yours!" She whimpers.
"Again, kitten?"
"Yours, daddy!"
Gasping with amazement she comes on his cock, feeling the waves of pleasure vortex in her womb while Sy fucks into her tight cunt through her orgasm. Unwilling to hold back, he comes right away, grunting loudly as he spills himself deep inside her.
They pant into each other's mouths for a few seconds, the sounds of passersby becoming more and more prominent as the throb in their ears begins to slowly subside.
"Now I want to see you flirting around with my jizz dripping down your thighs" he provokes while letting her back down on the ground and stepping back to fix his jeans "I hope this is the attention you craved for"
“Yeah well, you just made sure everyone see I’m your woman”
Summary: Syverson and his wife navigate the ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the blessings and pitfalls of marriage.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC
Word Count: 876
Warnings: None (yet)
Chapters: Flashback | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
A/N: So this very first scene started in my head as just a conversation between the two characters. I jotted it down before bed last night, and in true author fashion, my mind took it and went “wheeeeeeeee!”, and the scene you’ll read below was born. The story is inspired by an anonymous kink imagine I received recently (though it doesn’t seem like it right now) and a bracelet I got whilst on vacation.
I’ll probably flesh the story out for a little while (there will be smut eventually, my kinky-hearted beauties, never fear!), and I’ll work to finish it if enough interest is received. You know what that means, folks: like and reblog, but most importantly COMMENT.
Tag list is open, please let me know if you’re interested!
Mabel was sitting on the dock, dipping her toes in the water as the sun slowly faded below the far line of the horizon. She felt his presence before he sat down, grunting as he took his boots off to set them next to her sandals. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the frogs sing their goodnight lullabies to one another.
“I got ya somethin’.”
Mabel looked at Syverson, cocking an eyebrow at him curiously.
“Yer overseas, fightin’ a war, and ya have time to stop and get me somethin’?”
“I was passin’ by and saw it; made me think of ya.”
He pulled a bracelet out of his pocket; thin white hemp that was woven into a simple pattern. One lone, uneven pearl was braided into the center, with three small beads on either side of it. Mabel offered Syverson her wrist, and he tied it into place slowly, prolonging contact with her skin. She fiddled with the knot, angling the pearl so that the low sunlight glinted off it’s smooth surface.
“It’s really pretty, Sy. Thank you.”
They looked back out at the water, silence overtaking them again. One of Mabel’s favorite things about Syverson was that he didn’t need to talk much. He was generally able to say what he needed with a look or a touch, and he somehow always knew what she was thinking. She looked down at their hands, resting close enough on the worn wood that he could reach out his pinky and touch her. Syverson grazed her fingers lightly, wrapping them gently with his and flipping her hand over so that he could brush the thin skin of her pulse point with his other thumb. She let him play, her gaze fixed on the setting sun.
“I’m gonna marry ya, Mabel. Ya know that, right?”
Mabel rolled her eyes, smiling.
“Oh, do I now?”
“Ya don’t believe me.” It was a statement, not a question. Syverson didn’t ‘ask’ much.
“Should I?”
Syverson frowned, staring out at the water with Mabel. She sighed, knowing she had probably hurt his feelings. She’d known him for years; he was her best friend. And it wasn’t like she was opposed to the idea. Any woman would be lucky to be Syverson’s bride. But grief and fear didn’t want her to be happy, not with him. So she made excuses.
“Look, Sy. Yer a soldier. I’ve already lost one soldier, I don’t think I can lose another like that.”
Syverson glanced at Mabel, understanding and pain softening his brow.
“Yer brother.”
Mabel nodded. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle ocean breeze rustle stray wisps of hair from her face. It had been two years, but the pain of losing Danny had never lessened. He used to tease her about the ocean, saying that she had actually been born a mermaid but mom and dad had found her stranded on the beach. He wasn’t far off; ever since she learned to swim she spent every moment afforded to her at the coast. Syverson interrupted her thoughts.
“Ya ain’t gonna lose me, Mabel.”
“Ya can’t promise that.”
“I can.”
“No, ya can’t.”
Stubbornness hardened both their features as they stared one another down. Syverson knew Mabel was right, but he always fought, always looked for a way around the inevitable. Deep beneath his tough exterior lay a hopeless romantic, a man who refused to believe that life didn’t hold beauty, despite all the horror he’d seen. He had the proof sitting right in front of him.
It had always been Mabel. Since they were kids, she’d always had an unknowing hold on his heart. She saw through his quiet demeanor, never questioned his unwillingness to participate at school. When he was sixteen he got in a fight with a bully, and Mabel held him in their treehouse while he cried, terrified to go home and show his father the slip from the principal. She snuck into his room that night and nursed the fresh wounds on his back. She understood Syverson’s reasons when he joined the army, and she was the only person (save for his mother) that showed up to see him off. “Take care of my Ma,” he remembered asking Mabel, “I don’t want her going back to him just cause I’m gone.” Mabel had nodded, kissing his cheek. “Come back to us,” she had whispered. Us.
Looking at her now, Syverson couldn’t help himself. He brushed the blowing strands of hair out of her eyes, cupping her cheek as he lowered his head. Mabel didn’t fight him, submitting to the kiss with ease. She knew without question that he was right. He was going to marry her. She would let him, and would live in fear daily while he was gone. That was the price for his love. It was a price she would pay a thousand times over if it meant his strong arms were the ones that held her at night. Arms that would defend her, protect her, support her, delight in her. Arms that would carry groceries, and toss children in the air, and make love to her at night. Yes, fate, she thought as his lips melted against hers, I will pay your price.
I want to know how are you doing my bitch! 🖤 And tell me, besides Henry and your Pablo Schrbrbr, which other men have you been thirsting over? 👀😏
hi my sy-bitch :) ♥
i’m doing good and i hope so do you!
thanks for always making me smile with your special nickname for pablo ahahahahaha!
well, i’m thirsting over many men bc life is an all you can eat buffet....
daniel sharman in general... timothy olyphant and justin theroux accompany me through life :)
and since the mandalorian i like pedrito, but it’s no thirsting. he is just so funny and adorable that you have to like him!
Summary: Captain Sy x Reader. One Shot. Y/N tries to explain the rules of Rugby to Sy.
597 words
Notes: 18+ Swearing. Fluff, Soft!Sy, Domesticated!Sy, Married Life. Hint of Smut, slight Dom!Sy
A/N: Not Beta’d I don’t own anything. Feedback appreciated.
Enjoy BBZ 🥰
“Stop collapsing the fucking scrum!” you shout at the TV, waving your beer in disappointment. “For God's sake, get up man!”
“Y’all ok in here?” Sy pops his head around the doorframe, suds foaming over his forearms. He’s making good on your agreement. You cook, he washes.
“Yeah, sorry babe.” You look over and chuckle at the sight of your beefy husband, manhandling the tiniest of porcelain tea cups in the pads of his giant hands. “It’s just annoying they’re playing like it doesn’t even matter…knock on?! For fucks sake!”
“It’s like American Football, right?” Sy flops onto the sofa next to you, tea towel in hand, drying a casserole dish.
“Yeah I suppose the fundamentals are the same, it’s more violent though. Why? You wanna watch with me?”
“Sure doll” he smiles at you putting the dish down and taking a swig from your bottle. “We used to see some of the British guys playing this on base” He takes in the sight of you, sat on the edge of your seat enthralled in the passion of the match. “Come on, It’s the big burly men, right?”
“Nice! Lets go lads!” you clap, passing a toothy grin his way. “Now that’s a try!”
“Hey?!” He pulls you back to his wide chest and wraps his arms across your front, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed hair. “Baby you sniff so good” he grumbles, pressing soft kisses on top of your head.
“Stop trying to distract me Sy, this is important stuff” you jibe. Excited that he’s actually paying attention to something other than your ass for once. “Look, you’ll find this interesting.” You point to the scene on screen. “So that’s called a scrum, you put the biggest most strong guys up on the front line, look babe” You reaffirm, “That’s the bind, they hold onto the men on the opposite side as hard as they can and in a second they’ll push up against each other”. You look back to see Sy tickled by your dedication to the match. “The huge one up front, he’s a prop. It’s kind of a reverse tug of war. It’s about possession.” You shrug, taking Sy’s warm hand to your face and snuggling into it.
“Oh possession, I understand that” he growls, pulling you tight into his grip and rocking you side to side.
“Sy!” you laugh out. “you’re making me spill my beer”.
Easing his grip and snuggling into the crook of your neck, he gently tickles your neck with his beard. “So if I played rugby, I’d be at the front right?” he insists arrogantly.
“Um babe, there’s no denying you’re a strong guy, but look at them, that tighthead is what…300lbs?” You squeeze his thick forearm. “No, you’d be 2nd row for sure.”
“Oh..” he hums, a little noise escaping from his throat, rejected.
“Hey!” you sit up and turn back to match his gaze. “that’s where the big ‘athletic’ guys are.” Making a point of running your hand over his taught middle you continue, “strong, tall, definitely tough enough, but they can run the length of the field without passing out and spitting up blood” punctuating your words you poke him in the chest. “That’s the difference, stamina”
Sy covers your hand with his bear like grip, pulling you into a deep beer scented kiss. “Stamina, strength and possession” he breathes into your kiss swollen lips. Slapping his palm against your thigh he grips into the softness leaving fingerprints that will likely bruise “Oh baby, I wish you’d said before, that’s my favourite game”.
